Take

17.

Five days later…

It amazed Logan how a normal five-day week could turn into the longest stretch of time imaginable.

Five days. One hundred and twenty hours. Seven thousand, two hundred excruciating minutes.

That was how long it’d been since he’d seen or heard from Tate.

He’d told himself many times over to respect the guy, give him the space he needed, but as each day came and went and he heard nothing, he was slowly losing his resolve to stay away.

He’d gotten home Sunday afternoon and spent hours staring at his phone like some lovesick idiot. When nothing happened, he called Cole and told him he was taking Monday off.

Which has since turned into a week.

Sitting on his couch, Logan watched the reruns playing on TV and reminded himself that this was the very reason he didn’t do relationships. This ache in his heart. The way his chest constricted every time the phone rang. Not to mention the way he couldn’t stop wondering where the hell Tate was and what he was doing.

It was driving him fucking crazy.

He brought his bottle of Corona to his lips and drained it dry as a loud pounding started on his door. Closing his eyes, Logan wished them away. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone, unless it was—

“Open the damn door, Logan!”

Great. Just what I need. Cole.

“Your doorman said you were here!”

Fuck. Of course he did.

Standing, Logan dropped the empty bottle down on the couch and walked over to his front door. He pulled it open and scowled at his brother, who was standing on the other side.

Without so much as a hello, Cole stepped forward, and as their shoulders connected roughly, Logan stumbled.

“You look like shit,” Cole announced, quickly assessing him.

With a flick of his hand, Logan slammed the door and turned to see Cole had stopped in his living room and was surveying the damage he’d inflicted last Sunday night—he still hadn’t bothered cleaning up.

“Thanks. I dressed up just for you.”

Logan walked back down the hall and stopped behind Cole, using the wall for support. He waited as his brother silently scanned the room. Then he turned to face him. Feeling defensive, Logan crossed his arms over his chest.

He wasn’t in the mood for the third fucking degree.

“Are we going to ignore the obvious?”

Logan moved away from the wall and shrugged. “If you mean that you aren’t welcome, then no. I’m quite happy to tell you to get the fuck out.”

Ignoring that completely, Cole pointed out, “It’s not like you to cancel a court hearing and miss several days at such short notice.”

“I wasn’t aware that I had to run it by you. Last time I checked, the business card in my wallet read Mitchell and Madison. Which means I can take a couple of days off without you getting on my ass.”

It wasn’t often that Cole’s temper surfaced, but when it did, Logan tried to be a good distance away. However, that wasn’t the case right now, and as Cole strode forward, Logan stood his ground. He was spoiling for a fight, and if it couldn’t be with Tate, he’d take the next best thing.

“What the hell happened in here? Where’s Tate?” Cole demanded.

“None of your fucking business. Since when have you been so interested in my personal life and who I’m fucking?”

In a flash, Logan was shoved hard, and found his back against the wall with Cole snarling at him.

“If you were just fucking him, I wouldn’t give a shit either way. But you’re not!”

Angling his chin up, Logan glared at Cole so hard that his head began to pound. “What the hell do you know?”

“I know you have never referred to someone as your boyfriend ever. I’ve never seen you look at someone the way you look at him. And I have never seen you go crazy because someone didn’t pick you to be on his damn Pictionary team.”

Lifting his hands, Logan pushed Cole away, but the guy didn’t fucking budge.

“Get out of my way.”

“No. Not until you tell me what happened here. Why is the coffee table broken?”

Stubbornly, they stared at one another, and Logan knew nothing would move Cole but an explanation.

“Because I broke it.”

Cole frowned and looked down, obviously trying to see his hands. Logan held them up, showing his knuckles.

“I’m fine. I didn’t use my fists. I threw my loose change bowl.”

“And Tate?”

Just hearing his name made Logan wince.

“What about him?”

“Where is he?”

“How the hell should I know?”

Cole’s brows rose as he waited.

Feeling defeated, Logan slumped back against the wall and answered, “I haven’t seen or heard from him since Sunday. When he told me to give him some space.”

Cole moved back into the living room. “I’m assuming that upset you a little bit.”

“Aren’t you a barrel of laughs tonight.”

Logan made his way around his brother and headed to the kitchen. Cole followed and stopped at the counter, loosening his tie.

“What happened?”

Logan opened the fridge and realized he had absolutely nothing to offer. Shutting it, he turned and leaned back up against it.

“I don’t have anything to give you.”

“Did I ask for anything? How about you start by giving me some answers.”

Logan debated that in his head when his phone went off. His eyes moved over Cole’s shoulder.

“Go and check it, Romeo.”

Feeling like a moron, Logan grumbled, “Shut up,” but that didn’t stop him from going to get his phone.

He picked it up and actually felt a slither of that bitch emotion hope get through the cracks. Logan checked the message, then he squeezed his eyes shut and his hand tightened before he threw it back on the couch.

Not Tate.

“Okay. Start talking.”

Logan reluctantly turned around to face his brother. “Sunday was a fucking disaster.”

“I gathered as much.” Cole took a seat on one of the stools and rolled his sleeves up like he was settling in. Umm, not if he could help it. “Did you do something?”

“No. For once, I didn’t do anything.” Logan paused then shrugged. “Shocking, I know.”

“So what did happen?”

“Let’s see. We drove to his parents’ house. Diana was there—”

“Oh hell,” Cole muttered.

“Yeah, no shit. We didn’t even get to lunch. His mother basically told him I wasn’t welcome and he wasn’t either until he got rid of me.”

“So he did?”

Logan shook his head. “No. He did the exact opposite. He announced that we were sleeping together and that it was awesome—then left.”

It took a lot to shock his brother, but Cole’s mouth fell open. Logan knew the feeling. That had been him a week ago.

“Then?”

“Then we drove back to his place, and before I could say anything, he was telling me he needed space and time to think.”

Cole rubbed the side of his face and asked, “Well, that’s a pretty normal reaction, don’t you think? In light of everything that happened? Maybe he just needs to cool down.”

Logan ran a hand through his hair and realized he really needed to wash it. “I suppose. But fuck, waiting sucks.”

Cole’s mouth twisted into a sly smile. “Then don’t wait.”

“What?”

“Don’t. Wait.”

Cole stood and walked over to him, and Logan had no idea what he was about to do until he reached out and clasped both of his arms. He pulled him forward, and before Logan knew it, Cole hugged him.

Up until that moment, he hadn’t realized that he’d needed one. But as the security Cole offered surrounded him, Logan grabbed him and hugged him back as if he were a much-needed lifeline.

“He’s not Chris,” Cole reiterated, and as his words swept over him, Logan closed his eyes and remembered Tate saying something similar the week before. “He’s just scared.”

Logan swallowed, and while he wasn’t under scrutiny, he found he could say the words, “So am I.”

Cole didn’t mock him and tell him not to be. He just remained steady and silent, knowing that was what he needed.

After several seconds, which felt like hours, Logan heard, “Go and find him and tell him that he has no reason to be.”

Logan pulled back from his brother. “Just go find him, huh?”

Cole winked at him and grinned. “Actually, I already found him. When I went looking for you, I ran into his coworker.”

Tate stood off to the side in a dark corner of HAZE and observed. For the last three nights, he’d been coming down here to watch.

Watch and wait—to see if anyone piqued his interest.

Apparently no one had, because he was still against the wall, cradling a glass of Patron he hadn’t touched. He’d called into work a couple of days back and told Amelia he wasn’t feeling well and had to take a few nights off.

She’d agreed to take his shift but explained that he owed her. He knew that meant days and weekends he’d rather not work, but right now, he needed to think.

It had taken actually deleting Logan’s number not to call, but Tate also knew in the back of his mind he’d easily be able to find the guy. He was half of one of the most prestigious law firms in Chicago.

Logan Mitchell.

A man full of brash bravado who projected nothing other than confidence to the world, but underneath that flawless façade was a man fighting his own fears. He had everything to offer and was afraid to for fear of rejection.

A fear Logan probably now believed was founded due to his very actions.

The truth of the matter was, walking away from Logan last week was what had been right for him. He’d needed some time to regroup, time to assess what he wanted—really wanted—without the charismatic man clouding his judgment.

Ever since the night he’d first turned up at Logan’s place, Tate had barely stopped to think, let alone spent more than a day or two away from him. But after five days without the sexy-as-sin lawyer, Tate was more than aware of who he wanted in his life.

“Hey there.” The bubbly female voice found him over the loud thump of music.

He raised his drink, took a sip of the cool, clear alcohol, and looked her over. Blonde, stacked, and wrapped up nicely in one of the smallest pieces of black material he’d ever seen.

She was hot and knew it.

“Hey,” he replied, not overly interested but not rude enough to ignore.

“I’ve seen you in here the last couple of nights,” she told him, moving in closer. Her sweet perfume was overpowering as it wafted over to him.

“Oh yeah?”

She placed a perfectly manicured hand on his black jacket and licked her red lips. “Mhmm, yes. I’ve been watching you.”

Well, shit.

He’d wanted to see if anyone could interest him, and as the woman beside him tried her best, Tate felt…nothing.

“And what have you seen?”

“You. Standing against the wall, which is a complete waste. Drinking, observing, then leaving. Without one dance.”

He shrugged. “Haven’t really felt like dancing.”

“What about tonight?” she dared to ask.

He knew where this was going, but unfortunately for her, it wasn’t going to work.

“What about it?”

“Want to dance with me?”

Not really, but— “What the hell.”

Tate placed his glass on a table and took her hand, moving out onto the packed dance floor. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d danced, and right now, the idea of losing himself in the pulsating rhythm appealed to him.

Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back and began moving with the beat.

This is what he needed. Well maybe not exactly this, but for right now, it would do.

When two hands took his waist, Tate imagined they were stronger and much larger. He placed his arms on her shoulders, and as her fingers crept around to the middle of his back, he pictured opening his eyes and seeing smoldering blue. He thought of the way Logan would feel while moving his hips against him. He wouldn’t leave an inch between them. No…he’d have their bodies plastered against one another, and his hands would definitely be on his ass. Or one would be in his hair.

Tate also knew he’d feel his mouth somewhere on him, probably his neck. Yeah. He could almost feel it. Logan’s full lips trailing up his neck to his ear, where he’d no doubt say something absolutely filthy—

“Well, isn’t this fucking cozy.”

Okay…not what he was thinking, but Tate kept his eyes closed and went with it, hoping to hear his voice again. It wasn’t until the body pressed to his moved away that he opened his eyes.

“Excuse me,” his dance partner complained as she faced the person who’d interrupted them.

Tate also turned to see what the problem was, and what he saw, he couldn’t have dreamed up.

The man currently glaring at him was in no way smoldering. He was fuming mad.

Gone was the immaculate, clean-cut version of Logan he was used to, and in his place was an unshaven, sexier-than-imaginable version. And he was clearly pissed.

Holy shit.

“You needed some time, huh?” The words were full of rage as Logan glared at him.

Tate checked on the woman who was glancing between the two of them and then returned his attention to the more imminent threat—Logan. He didn’t move as Logan placed his mouth by his ear.

But instead of the sexual come-on he’d been imagining, he heard, “Feeling like a little pussy lately, huh, Tate?”

Tate turned his head so their lips were closer than acceptable for just friends, and every part of his body reacted.

Before he had the opportunity to say a word, Logan stepped away and shouted over the music, “You may want to dance a little closer than that, hun.”

Shit.

A defensive Logan was like a bull in a china shop. He didn’t stop and think about the best way to leave the situation. He just rammed into everything, to hell with what he broke or smashed along the way.

“And enjoy him while you can. Because this guy? He likes his space.”

Tate got between the two of them and put his hands up as if to calm Logan. “You done?”

“I haven’t even started.”

Tate reached out a hand to stop Logan from walking around him and stated loud enough that he’d hear, “I was going to call when I got home. You’re making a scene, so shut it, would you?”

He didn’t budge as Logan came closer, and when the strong hand he’d imagined earlier snaked down between them to cradle his stiffening cock, Logan narrowed his eyes on him.

“Want to make me? Or do you want to take this hard-on you got just by seeing me and do something useful with it instead of sticking your tongue in this woman's mouth and trying to get off?”

Tate closed his eyes as the pleasure of having Logan near him—touching him—hit him all over again. “I didn’t have my tongue in her mouth.”

Logan brought his face in close enough that the scruff on his cheek abraded his own smooth one. “Why not? She has a very nice mouth.”

Tate grabbed Logan’s arms as a low groan left his throat. He’d forgotten all about the woman and was now focused on the throbbing music that was matching time with the blood pumping through his veins.

“I wanted yours.”

“Did you?” Logan teased, flicking his tongue over his lobe. “Could’ve fooled me. Five days is a long time.”

“Was gonna call tonight,” he managed.

Logan’s teeth bit his ear, and he said, “You’re too late.”

He was released abruptly, and as quickly as Logan had appeared, he was gone.

Fuck this night. In fact, fuck this entire week.

Logan stormed out of the club and handed his ticket to the valet.

When Cole had told him Tate was down at HAZE, he’d assumed he’d find him sitting at the bar, drinking—possibly as miserable as himself.

But to walk into the club, scan the dance floor, and find him gorgeous as ever in his jeans and leather, draped all over some big-titted blonde…That was not what he’d expected to see.

So yeah, fuck this night.

Still fuming, he started tapping his foot on the concrete.

Where the hell is my car?

“Running away?”

Logan grit his teeth and turned to face the man he’d somehow known would follow him outside. “Me? You’ve got some fucking nerve, Tate. Just go back to your little lady, would you?”

Tate handed his own ticket to one of the other valets, and as he left to go and get his death mobile—no doubt—Tate moved around to stand in front of him.

“I was going to call.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he replied, looking around—anywhere but at the temptation in front of him.

“Yes, you do.”

He was done. He was sick of wondering where the hell he stood when it came to Tate, so maybe it was time to tell him just that.

“So what if I do? Does it make you feel good knowing I waited around for you to call? You know what, step up or fuck off.”

Logan watched as Tate’s eyes widened, but he said nothing, and when his car was pulled to a stop at the curb, he walked around Tate and tipped the valet.

As he got in the car, he glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Tate climbing on the back of his bike. It had him pushing his foot hard on the accelerator.

If you want me, come fucking get me.

Tate kept his eyes on the taillights of Logan’s silver Audi R8 as he floored it through the quiet night streets. It was late, nearly midnight, and even though there was some traffic, it wasn’t enough to stop Logan from running—and him from chasing.

He watched as the car ahead of him crossed over to the outside lane and floored it up a straight stretch of road. When they came to a stop at a red light, he pulled up beside Logan and made sure to look at the tinted window. He couldn’t see in, but he knew Logan was watching him, and it was made clear when the car behind them honked at the green light they’d both missed.

Like a gunshot, Logan punched the car into gear and hurtled down the road. Tate fell back so he was following behind, and when Logan took a left, he was sure to follow.

He knew where Logan was going—home—and he had to wonder what exactly he expected would happen once they arrived.

Making a right at the final turn, Logan pulled into the drive that led them down to the underground parking, and Tate followed in after. Apparently, that was okay because the gate remained open long enough for him to drive inside.

The parking garage was quiet except for the low rumble of Logan’s engine, and when he turned into his parking spot and shut off the vehicle, Tate maneuvered his bike in to fit beside him.

He took his helmet off, placed it on the fuel tank between his thighs, and waited. His heart was hammering and his blood was rushing around his ears as Logan opened his door and got out.

He looked at him over the roof of his car and then slammed the door shut. The echo of it was thunderous in the dark garage as he made his way around the back of the car and over to him.

Tate climbed off the bike and tried to imagine what was about to go down. In his mind, it could go one of two ways.

Logan could tell him to fuck off or he could get the first word in.

He went with the latter.

“It’s rude to leave in the middle of an argument.”

“We weren’t in the middle. We were at the end,” Logan stated, stopping in front of him.

God, he looks amazing.

His black hair was slicked back, and the black pants and white shirt he was wearing paired with a suit jacket that seemed velvety to touch all came together to make Logan look like a fucking rock God—but he would not let that distract him.

“No,” Tate told him. “You got pissed off because someone didn’t do what you wanted. Someone told you no. Told you that they needed space.”

“Is that what you think?”

“It's not what I think. It’s what I know. Everyone knows that Logan Mitchell is the player. The one who never gets turned down if he wants something. I also imagine you’ve never heard the words ‘I’ll call you.’ How’d that feel?”

Tate couldn’t believe the stuff flying out of his mouth, but the more he talked, the angrier he became. He was angry that Logan would accuse him of going elsewhere, and angry that he’d question his own feelings in the first place.

“God, you’re being an asshole right now,” Logan growled as he shoved him slightly until his back was against the concrete pillar. “You made me wait for five fucking days! No phone call, no text, no ‘Hey, I still want to do this.’ Just nothing—silence. So your parents freaked the fuck out. Whose didn't? Did you expect them to greet you with open arms?”

Tate shook his head, frustrated with Logan—but more so with himself. “I expected them to be a little more fucking compassionate, yes!”

Logan scoffed at him. “Yeah? Well, welcome to the real world.”

In an instant, Tate’s fury turned to dejection. “I don’t even know why I bothered following you tonight. I’m just gonna go.”

Logan scratched the thick stubble covering his chin. “Wow…you know what? Yeah, just go,” he said, his voice deceptively low as he started pacing. “Leave…Why not, right?”

He went to move around Logan, but before he knew it, he felt two hands on his shoulders pinning him in place. Logan’s blue eyes scanned his face in some kind of frantic search, and then he just…exploded.

“Leave? Of course, just leave. Fuck me for being so stupid,” he fumed and then dropped his hands away. “And fuck you for making me fall in love with you.”

Tate blinked several times as if Logan had just sucker-punched him.

He stood frozen as Logan walked back and forth, and then, as if he’d come to some inner conclusion, he spun on his heels and stormed back around to his car door.

But there was no way Tate was letting him go after that.

He ran around the other end of the car and got to the driver’s side just before Logan, blocking his way.

Finally finding his tongue, he asked, “What did you just say to me?”

“You need to move,” Logan advised, devoid now of all emotion.

Tate didn’t budge, not even to blink. He just stood there staring back at him.

Did he really just say—

“I said move, Tate.”

Logan reached out to push him aside, and still he stood his ground.

By that point, Logan was all bluster, his anger masking the emotions he’d let surface—the emotions that terrified him.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

Tate stubbornly shook his head. He’d be damned if he was going to let him leave without acknowledging his words. Plus, who knew where the hell he was going? They were already at his house.

What other options are there?

Apparently done with waiting, Logan grabbed his arm and shoved him aside. “I'm going to get in my car and drive out of here. You can either get in and come with me or never see me again. It's your choice, Tate.” Then he got in the car and slammed the door.

His choice, was it? Not any longer, it wasn’t.

It had stopped being a choice when Tate realized it wasn’t his head but his heart deciding.

He quickly walked around to the passenger’s side door, opened it, and got in. Once the door shut and secured him inside, he looked across the console to Logan.

“Logan?” He waited, and when nothing came, he whispered, “I love you too.”

The only sound in the car was his breathing—until Logan started the engine and revealed four words that almost shattered him.

“I don’t believe you.

18.

Logan stared out the windshield as he drove up the highway and told himself to focus on the road, not the mute man sitting beside him. He was still reeling from what happened back at his place, replaying the words over in his head.

They’d been driving around an hour now, and he was surprised Tate hadn’t spoken since they’d left. The last words he’d said were, “I love you too.”

Unable to help himself, Logan took a quick moment to glance at the passenger’s seat and found Tate angled toward him. His back was half pressed against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. Logan then looked up to find him watching his quick perusal with such quiet intensity.

“Where are we going?”

Finally. Something to focus on other than, “I love you too.”

“Do you care?”

Logan knew he sounded surly, but that was too fucking bad. He’d had a shitty week. His plan to go to HAZE and ask Tate to go away with him had not gone the way he’d anticipated.

Instead, everything had just gotten shittier until, “I love you too.”

“Yes, I care. Especially since I need to come up with a good excuse for being gone.”

“New Buffalo,” Logan told him, and when he got no response, he looked over at Tate who gave a few slow nods.

“What’s in New Buffalo?”

Logan saw his exit coming up and crossed several lanes, ready to leave the highway. “A beach.”

“I know that. I’ve been there before.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

Tate sighed and then asked, “Are you gonna be like this the entire time?”

“And how’s that?”

“Pissed off, annoyed, moody?”

Logan took the off-ramp, and when he pulled to a stop at a red light, he turned to face his passenger. “Yeah, I think I might be. At least for the rest of the night.”

“It’s already the morning.”

“Then at least until noon. Smartass.”

The light changed to green and Logan put his foot on the gas. There was silence in the car again until, “I was going to call you.”

Logan ran a hand back through his hair but offered no reply.

Tate continued to watch the guarded man focused on his driving.

“Why can’t you ever just say what you’re really feeling?”

Logan whipped his head around and drilled him with an expression so fierce that Tate was surprised it didn’t leave marks on him where it held him in place.

“I do say what I’m feeling.”

“No you don’t.”

Logan made a turn onto a street and remained silent.

“Okay,” Tate mused. Then he stated quite adamantly, “I love you,” and waited for a reaction.

He watched Logan pull his bottom lip behind his top teeth as if he were holding back his words. Then he released it and said, “I told you how I feel about that.”

Tate remembered all too well. “You said you didn’t believe me.”

“That’s right.”

Tate shrugged as if it didn’t bother him, when really, it cut deep—really fucking deep. “You may not believe me, but it’s true. And at least I can say the words.”

“I can say them.”

“Ah huh,” Tate placated, but he said nothing else.

He felt his mouth curving into a victorious smile as Logan pulled off onto a side street and parked, keeping the engine idling.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you always mask what you’re really feeling. Even earlier, you didn’t actually say the words.”

Tate knew he was slowly chipping away at Logan’s annoyance because he now had one hand up on the headrest and his fingers were very lightly—almost as if he didn’t even notice—touching his hair.

“I said them. Maybe you didn’t hear me after spending the night in a club.”

Tate decided if ever there was a time to remind Logan that he was exactly where he wanted to be, that time was now. He reached out, took him by the lapels, and jerked him across the console. When their noses were touching, he ran his fingers along the scruff covering Logan’s jawline.

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to be any sexier, but damn, Logan…you proved me wrong.”

This close, he could see the way Logan’s eyes dilated in response, but the pleasure was short-lived when he heard him ask in a gruff voice, “Then why did you leave me?”

Before Tate could remind him that he hadn’t left—he’d just needed space—Logan cupped the back of his neck and connected their mouths.

Molten fire lit his veins as his lips parted and Logan pushed inside. As their tongues tasted and they strained to get closer to one another, Tate felt the hand at the back of his neck slide up into his hair.

He groaned as Logan’s fingers twisted and tightened, reminding him that he loved the slight bite of pain that came when getting his hair pulled.

Damn, I’ve missed this—missed him.

The forceful way Logan took what he wanted and demanded that he do the same made Tate’s body respond in a way it never had with anyone else.

As a deep growl reverberated through the car, Tate felt his cock harden in response. Then Logan pulled his mouth free and demanded, “Stop.”

“Stop?” Tate repeated, not quite sure he’d heard correctly. He couldn’t remember that word ever leaving Logan’s mouth.

“Yes. Stop,” he said again, moving to his side of the car.

Tate sat back in his seat, pressed a palm to his erection, and moaned.

“Don’t do it.”

He looked over to see Logan’s eyes moving between his hand and his face. “Don’t do what?”

“Sit there and get off in my car. You put me through the fucking wringer this week.”

“So you didn’t—”

“Didn’t what? Jerk myself off to the guy who told me to get lost? No, I didn’t.”

Tate removed his hand, his cock instantly deflating. Then Logan’s voice cut through the tense silence.

“Tate?”

“Yeah?”

“A cabin.”

Tate looked confused as Logan pulled the car back out onto the main road.

“That’s what’s in New Buffalo. My cabin. And I want to see you in it.”

Well, Tate thought, Logan certainly had no problem telling him how he felt about that, and there was no way in hell he was going to argue with him.

Logan drove the car along the empty street to the cabin nestled in amongst the green forestry at the far end. He then turned onto the dirt drive and made his way down until he came to a stop in front of the two-story home made of brick and wood he’d purchased a little over three years ago.

He loved it out here. The quiet and the calm—the solitude.

Which would probably surprise most.

For so long, he’d been on his own. It was where he was most comfortable. So it was ironic that, as he sat in front of his sanctuary, he was more uncomfortable than ever. Stuck somewhere in the middle of hope and fear, he wasn’t sure how to cross the line into one or the other, and Tate wasn’t a decision he wanted to make lightly.

Pulling the keys out of the ignition, he turned to see Tate looking out the window.

“It’s too dark,” he said. “I can’t see anything.”

“You will in a couple of hours. The sun will be up before we know it.”

He moved to open the door when a hand landed on his arm. He turned to Tate but said nothing, just waited for him to speak.

“Thank you for bringing me here.”

Logan nodded and got out of the car, moving around to the trunk. He popped it open and grabbed a bag, and when he shut it, he found Tate standing by the vehicle.

His grip tightened on the handles of the bag, and he walked over to the stairs leading up to the front door. When he reached the top, he turned to see Tate waiting at the bottom of them, looking up at him.

“I don’t have anything.”

Logan clutched the bag in his hand and watched Tate as he climbed the stairs. When he reached him, Logan heard himself saying, “You have me.”

When that pearly white grin of Tate’s appeared, Logan backed away.

He is too fucking irresistible.

He wanted to get his head on right. To gain a little perspective—think about all that had been said.

“Come on. Let me show you inside.”

“Logan?”

He’d just unlocked the door and pushed it open as Tate stopped next to him on his way in. “Hmm?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner.”

Logan couldn’t explain why that was what he’d been waiting to hear—but it was. He knew that even just a simple text last week would have made him feel more…More what? Secure? Jesus, he hated feeling vulnerable.

He shut the door and flicked on a light. A rustic chandelier lit up the main living room and a huge stone fireplace on the far wall. As Tate looked around, Logan watched him.

“Wow. This place is…wow.”

Logan shrugged out of his jacket, placed it over one of the hooks on the wall by the door, and then walked farther into the room, stopping beside Tate.

“Yeah. I like it.”

Tate shook his head. “Like it? It’s fucking gorgeous.”

Logan felt the side of his mouth quirk at Tate’s obvious approval and then indicated with a tilt of his head that he should follow him as he showed him down a narrow hall.

“That’s the master bedroom down there,” he said, pointing to the far end door.

Tate nodded and looked where he was showing him. “Okay.”

Logan swallowed and then indicated behind Tate. “That’s the guest room in there.”

He watched as Tate turned his head to the room he’d pointed out, and once he was satisfied he knew where to go, Logan began walking down the hall to his room.

“Hey? Logan!”

He’d known it was coming, so he wasn’t surprised. He opened the door to the master bedroom and then turned to face Tate, who seemed…baffled.

“Yes?”

“So I’m…”

“A guest?” he suggested.

“Yeah…”

Logan reached up and began undoing his shirt buttons, and when he was halfway down, he said, “Yes. Right now, you’re my guest. Sleep well, Tate.”

He reached out and shut the door—stealing himself some time.

If Tate got five days to work out what he wanted, then he could damn well give him a few hours to catch the fuck up.

Tate walked into the ‘guest’ room and turned the light on.

It was huge—and empty.

In the center was a bed the size of a swimming pool, and on the far side of the room was a tallboy dresser made out of beautiful carved wood. It almost looked hand carved to go along with the heavy bed frame.

He wandered across the lighter hardwood floors and sat down on the side of the bed. God, he was more exhausted than he’d realized.

As the mattress dipped down under him, he toed his shoes off and lay back across the cream duvet. The soft fabric enveloped him as he relaxed back into it and thought about the man at the far end of the hall.

He couldn’t actually believe Logan had sent him to a separate room. But then he remembered the look on Logan’s face last week and maybe…Yeah, I totally deserve it.

He could wait, and he would.

The complete and utter lack of tolerance from his parents had shown him one very important thing—love was not something that was simply there because you were born of the same blood, and it should never come with a fucking disclaimer.

He’d tried to call them during the past week and nothing. It was as if they’d decided he didn’t exist. They’d just cut him off like a rotting limb that was infecting the rest of the body, and he still wasn’t sure how that made him feel.

How could the people who were supposed to care the most hurt him so deep?

Don’t I deserve to be fucking happy?

And what it all came back to was Logan. Logan made him happy.

So now it was his turn. His turn to convince Logan that he, Tate Morrison, was worth it. When he wanted something, he was stubborn enough to wait it out and take it.

Logan would be his, and he wasn’t going anywhere until he had him.

19.

Logan woke the next morning to the sun slipping in through his bedroom window. He glanced at the time and groaned.

Fuck. 6:34 a.m. Sunrise, of course.

Yawning, he let his eyes adjust and looked out the window at one of the many ponds on his property.

When he’d been searching for a place and the realtor had brought him down the narrow street lined with cabins, Logan hadn’t thought this place was for him. That was until she turned onto his drive and weaved him back between the trees to show him the way the end property spread out behind the place.

It had taken two hours for her to walk him around the thirty acres and convince him this was the place he wanted, and he’d never regretted the decision.

He’d purposefully left the curtains off the bedroom window so he could see the view, so the sun waking him wasn’t unusual. It was, however, unwelcome after only a couple of hours sleep.

Of course that made him think of the night before and Tate.

He wondered if he was awake yet and, if he was, how things would be between them this morning. It was strange to be off his game, but when it came to Tate, he was starting to realize he needed a whole new rule book, and the first rule would read: No long periods of dead air space.

Rolling to his side, Logan picked up his phone to check for any messages and was happy to find none. Cole said he’d take care of everything at the office, so he didn’t have to worry about that, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d thought maybe Tate would—

Okay, this is ridiculous. Just fucking text the guy.

He found Tate’s name and typed in: You up yet?

He put the phone down and tried not to stare at it while he waited for a response. He also reminded himself that Tate was just down the hall.

Then it vibrated.

Tate: Define up.

Usually, he was the first to slip in a sexual innuendo, but this morning, he wanted something different, so he typed: Awake.

Almost immediately, the phone buzzed.

Tate: Yeah, I’m awake.

Logan looked at the screen for a moment before writing: You sleep well?

Christ, when did I become the person who pussyfoots around a situation?

Tate: An hour or so…Logan?

Logan looked at his name, wondering where this would go if he responded. Well, there was only one way to find out: Tate?

One heartbeat, two heartbeats—

Tate: I missed you.

The words were so simple, and as he focused on them, Logan realized that it was the first time they’d ever been used in relation to himself.

While that made him happy, it also made him…wary.

He typed back: When? He needed to know if Tate had felt any of the misery he had during their time apart.

Tate: All of last week. Last night. Right now.

Logan felt a smile cross his mouth as he read the last message—at least three times. He didn’t think written words had ever been more satisfying, and then his phone vibrated and made him realize that the written word could be insanely powerful.

Tate: I miss lying beside you.

Suddenly, his heart wasn’t the only thing that was happy.

As he imagined Tate lying in the huge king-sized bed down the hall, his cock took immediate interest.

When he didn’t reply right away, his phone buzzed again.

Tate: Logan?

Quickly, he typed back: I’m here. It scared him that he couldn’t imagine a time where he wouldn’t be there if Tate wanted him.

He kept trying to think of that precise moment when Tate had slipped in under his defenses, because he sure as hell hadn’t pursued him with forever in mind.

The actual thought of forever still freaked him out—even as it was becoming more appealing.

Tate: Did you sleep well?

That was easy enough. No.

Tate: Why not?

He’d known that was coming, and his answer made his palms sweat. I missed you too.

Several minutes passed and he started to think he’d said the wrong thing, but then, as usual, his addiction reached out to him and reminded him he was still hooked.

Tate: I’m right down the hall.

Tate Morrison. He might as well change his name to temptation, because that’s what he was. Pure fucking temptation.

Logan steeled himself against what his body wanted and tried like hell to keep things above his waist. I know.

Tate: You don’t want to see me?

The text was innocent enough, but the tease was underlying. He knew Tate, and Logan could sense the way he was leading them, building them towards more than a casual texting session. I do.

Tate: Then come see me.

Groaning, Logan reached down under the sheet to press a palm against his morning erection. If I do, I’ll touch you.

He could almost see Tate’s grin when he read the next question.

Tate: And you don’t want that?

He shook his head. Of course I WANT that.

Tate: But?

But…I don’t think so. Not yet.

He was battling the desire to take his time and move slow against walking down the hall, opening the guest bedroom door, and pounding Tate into the mattress.

Then, frustrated, he typed out: You really fucking scared me last week. I thought that was it. That you were done with me.

Logan read his message and felt the fear from the last few days creep back inside. The pain of having everything he wanted ripped away had opened his eyes in ways he’d never expected.

At first, he’d been furious, but it was after the anger seeped out that the empty sadness had found him. When he’d really thought he’d lost him.

Tate: I know…I’m sorry.

And Logan knew that he was. Logically, he was aware that Tate had needed time. But to go from having him available and within talking and touching distance to nothing…Well, it was a reality he never wanted to experience again.

I know.

Fuck. This was not like him. He wasn’t the kind to hold a grudge, and he certainly didn’t believe in that bullshit of withholding sex. But right now, he needed to make sure that his heart was strong enough for whatever was ahead of them.

Because his heart was now one hundred percent involved.

Tate: Logan?

Yeah?

He waited for whatever Tate was going to write, but instead of words, an image loaded on his phone that made him ache with longing.

There, staring back at him, was Tate.

The curve of his lips was subtle but definitely there.

Total sex face.

His brown curls were visible against the cream pillow, and the photo caught a glimpse of the top of his chest with all of that delicious honeyed skin. He’d sent it with the caption: Wish you were right here, lying beside me.

Fucking hell. So do I.

God, Tate. You’re fucking gorgeous.

He took another look at the photo and found himself stroking his cock.

Damn, I can’t stop looking, he typed, his hand moving faster.

The morning shadow lining Tate’s cheeks made Logan want to lick and bite his way up his jaw, and as he imagined just that, another message flashed up.

Tate: Just looking? Or…

Definitely or…

Logan knew nothing would stop this from going below his waist now. He was already there.

Tate: So you still want to...

Be with you? Yes. Don’t doubt it, Tate. My head may be thinking things over but my cock is sure of what it wants, and you’re it.

Yeah, his heart had said its piece this morning. Now it was his cock’s turn.

Tate’s hard-on knew whom it wanted too, and even rooms away, Logan still had him ready to go.

When his phone chimed earlier, he’d hoped it was Logan, and after pulling some hard truths from his moody lodger, Tate was determined to see if Logan was closed off to his reaching out with the need to…be needed again.

What he really wanted was to touch Logan, to show him that he cared, but for now, this would work—if Logan was open to a bit of play.

With his phone in one hand and the other down between his legs, Tate remembered the first time they’d done this. He’d been so unsure that night, but by the end of it, had the best orgasm he’d had in months.

He was not unsure this morning, and he was going to chase after that amazing release. The one he knew was right there, in Logan’s hands. He was the only one who could give it to him.

He imagined Logan naked and hard, ready for him, and text back: That’s one hot visual.

Logan: Is it?

Jesus, yes it is. He pushed his hips up into his palm. He wasn’t about to play coy now. The teasing was done, and he wanted Logan to take him there as only he could.

Yes. When you’re turned on, nothing compares. Everyone should be so lucky to see. But I don’t share, so they can fuck off. He hit send, and then, quicker than he thought his fingers could type, he followed up with: You’re even sexy when you hate me.

Not two seconds after the message was sent, his phone began ringing. Tate pressed answer and brought it to his ear.

“Hey.”

“I could never hate you.” Logan’s deep voice filtered through the phone and sent a shiver of desire straight down his spine. “I missed you so much last week. I was a fucking mess.”

Tate winced at the thought of causing Logan pain. He needed him to know that it hadn’t been easy for him either.

“I had to delete your number just so I wouldn’t call.”

He heard a muffled, “Fuck,” at the other end of the phone.

Then Tate admitted in a low voice, “I hated not talking to you. Not seeing you. And I’ve discovered I need to be touched by you—daily.”

The groan that reverberated through the phone sounded anguished, part pleasure and part pain. He knew Logan had been worried that he’d changed his mind about them, but it was time to reiterate what the separation had meant to him.

“I needed to know that if I was doing this, it was my choice. I didn’t want to resent you later.”

The soft huffs of Logan’s breath were all that could be heard, and they had Tate eagerly touching himself, knowing that Logan was probably doing the same.

“And?” Logan asked.

Tate felt his mouth curl into a grin. He had him.

“And…this is definitely my choice. You might have done the chasing in the beginning, but Logan…”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve never been happier than when you caught me.”

Tate heard nothing, and then Logan ordered, “Get rid of the covers.”

“Okay,” Tate managed, loving the weight of that command. “Hang on,” he murmured, placing the phone down to push the covers to his feet. He moved to the center of the bed and picked the phone back up. “Okay. Done.”

“Prove it,” Logan demanded roughly.

Tate looked at his white boxer briefs and clearly visible erection. He brought the phone away from his ear and angled it down his body, taking a shot that would rival a dirty magazine.

He couldn’t wait for the reaction to—

“Fucking hell, Tate,” Logan rasped through the phone.

Tate shoved his hand into his briefs and gripped the base of his cock to begin slow, torturous pulls of his shaft. “What about you? Let me guess. You’re naked, right?”

Logan’s heavy breathing was so familiar Tate imagined him hovering above him, right by his ear.

“Yes. Hate wearing shit to bed. Gets in my way.”

“I wanna see,” Tate pleaded as he bent his legs and arched up into his hand, continuing to jerk off.

His heart raced as Logan told him to give him a second. Then his phone lit up and there on the screen was a view of Logan from the chest down, his treasure trail clearly pointing the way to the very plump and shiny head of his cock.

“Ahh, Logan. God, I want you,” he moaned, bringing the phone back to his ear. He dipped his hand down to cup his balls and squeezed. Fuck, he wanted to come.

“You didn’t take care of yourself last night, did you?” Logan’s voice was hoarse, like he was holding back—and Tate knew the feeling.

“No…” he managed, though he had no idea how, when he just wanted to clench his jaw and come—hard. “I waited like you told me to.”

“Good, because Tate…”

Tate’s breathing was now coming at a record pace. It was unbelievable how much he craved Logan. Just hearing his voice had him at a fever pitch, ready to fucking explode.

“Yes?”

“I want to hear you all the way down here in my room when you come.”

Fuck. Yes. He wanted to hear Logan too.

Tate brought his hand to his mouth, spat in his palm, and then began masturbating to the thought of Logan several doors away doing the exact same thing.

There was no more conversation between them as they each listened to the fervent sounds they were pulling from one another. The erotic sighs, groans, and throaty curses pushed them both closer to the release they’d been working toward.

Tate pulled up the photo of Logan to get another detailed look at what he wished his mouth was on, and then Logan’s voice cut through the line.

“The only thing that would be hotter than listening to you go fucking crazy right now would be listening and watching as I bury my cock inside you.”

That did it. The reminder of Logan taking him.

Tate came so fiercely that the harsh shout of Logan’s name echoed loudly in his room, and he knew Logan heard him through the house because the responding growl that reverberated up the hall splintered through the phone, making him shoot his load all over his stomach.

Holy shit, Tate thought as he finally calmed, and smiled up at the ceiling. The next time Logan shouted for him like that, he would make sure to be within touching distance.

20.

After a record-quick shower, Logan made his way down the hall to see an empty guest room. He then continued on and out into the living space, but even that was empty. It wasn’t until he walked around the large, brown sofa and across the plush rug that he spotted him.

Tate was standing in the sun on his porch, wearing nothing but a navy-blue towel, and damn if that wasn’t the best view he’d ever seen out his window.

His hair was slicked back, obviously still wet from his shower, and he was bent at the waist with his forearms resting on the railing, which caused the towel to stretch nice and tight across his ass.

Logan walked over to the door that led outside, and as he pushed it open, Tate glanced back at him. The thrill he got as Tate’s eyes moved over him was electric, and when he straightened and turned, placing his hands behind him on the railing, it was all Logan could do not to go to him and drag him inside.

“Good morning,” Tate greeted with a cocky grin.

Logan strolled over to where he was standing and made sure not to touch when he stopped beside him. Instead, he put his hands on the rails and looked out at the view in front of him—a view he loved.

When Tate turned back around and took up the same position as before, Logan chuckled.

“A very good morning.”

“Yeah?” Tate asked, tilting his face in his direction.

He couldn’t help himself then. He reached out and pushed a stray curl back from Tate’s face.

“Best I’ve had in a week.”

Logan felt his breath catch when Tate’s eyes closed and he leaned into his fingers. It was as if he were gaining so much pleasure from the way he was stroking his hair that he just had to get closer—Logan knew the feeling.

“You like it when I do this? Touch your hair?”

A rumble emerged from deep within Tate, and when his eyes opened, Logan noticed they were heavy and full of invitation as he admitted, “I love it.”

Logan speared his hand fully into his hair and brought Tate back up so they were face to face. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Tate’s lips, and when he opened them, Logan slipped his tongue inside for a better taste.

Tate’s hands landed on his waist, urging him closer, and Logan tightened his fingers and pulled his head back so he could put his mouth at his jaw.

“I wanted to do this when you sent that first photo this morning. Taste you. Bite you.”

He felt Tate’s hips grind against him, and Logan brought his other hand around to his ass to hold him still. He opened his mouth, scraped his teeth along Tate’s jaw, and worked his way up the side of his neck. The heavy breathing he’d listened to earlier was back, but now it was right there by his ear.

“This is a very flimsy towel, Tate.”

Logan smiled against his ear as the fingers on his waist dug in harder. Tate angled his head away, giving him more access to his neck.

He nuzzled his nose into the wet curls, inhaling the shampoo, and had the sudden urge to mark him. With that goal in mind, Logan sucked Tate’s taut skin between his lips until he heard him curse at the sting of pain.

“Did you just give me a hickey?”

Logan raised his head and licked his lips as he fingered the towel that was barely keeping Tate decent. “I did.”

Tate brought a hand up to his neck and ran his fingers over the red mark. “I’ve never had one of these before.”

“Is that right? I do so love being your first.”

Tate lowered his arm and looked down at himself before glancing back at him. “Exactly how many days are we staying here? I kind of have a job I’d like to keep and…umm…what am I supposed to wear?”

Logan felt his mouth curve at the questions.

Tate didn’t seem overly worried by the prospect of being gone, even though he hadn’t preplanned. In fact, the way he was looking at him made Logan think he was pretty fucking excited to be there.

“I was thinking a week when I called Pete…” he trailed off, thinking that Tate might be mad at first, but he just placed a hand on his chest.

“You called my boss?”

“Yeah,” he admitted and then shrugged it off. “It’s no big deal. I just thought we could go away and let things settle a bit. You know, after last week. And plus, Pete likes me.”

“Thank you. No one’s ever called my boss to get me out of work so they could spend time with me.”

Logan swallowed and didn’t know what to say in the face of such gratitude. His biggest fear wasn’t that he wouldn’t love him. It was…what if he did? How would he ever survive if he lost that?

How do people so readily hand over their hearts when I’m absolutely terrified to?

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“Let me back in.”

Logan blinked him into focus and placed his hand on top of Tate’s. “I’m trying.”

Tate nodded. “Then I’ll wait.”

“For how long?”

Tate’s eyes softened and the smile that touched his lips was full of sincerity as he promised, “As long as it takes.”

It turned out that Logan had packed a week’s worth of clothes for the both of them before he’d tracked him down last night. As Tate changed into a pair of jeans and a shirt, he checked himself out in the mirror, and there on the left side of his neck was a small but clearly visible bruise.

He felt his cock twitch at the memory of Logan’s mouth when it had applied the perfect amount of pressure to mark him.

God, Logan’s possessive side was so damn sexy.

He’d never thought that would appeal to him, but when it came to that man, Tate wanted to be branded by him. He wanted everyone to know they were together, that he was his.

So this was perfect, like an erotic signature.

He turned and left the room to find Logan waiting for him by the front door.

“You ready?” he asked.

“For?”

“We need to go and get a few things from town. Food for one.”

Tate stuffed his wallet into his back pocket and watched as Logan’s eyes followed his movements.

“You don’t need that.”

“Need what?”

“Your wallet.”

Tate continued walking toward him. “I’m paying for half the food, Logan.”

“I brought you here, so I’ll pay for the damn food.”

Tate stopped between Logan and the door. “No. Now let’s go. I’m hungry.”

He walked down the stairs and was making his way toward Logan’s car when he heard his name. He turned to see Logan walking in the opposite direction.

“This way.”

Tate followed and jogged a little to catch up. The property Logan’s cabin was built on was gorgeous and had him wondering, “How big is this place?”

Logan looked his way and smiled. “Thirty acres, give or take.”

Tate stopped where he was and had Logan coming to a standstill also. “Thirty acres?”

“Yep.”

“Damn,” he muttered, shaking his head. Then he started walking again, thinking for the first time of how much he didn’t have.

He was only a few years Logan’s junior and what did he have to show for it? A crappy apartment and a motorcycle his ex-wife was trying to get in their divorce. Yeah, he had some savings, but Logan...Well, Logan’s wealth was a little intimidating.

“Hey?”

Tate looked back to where Logan was still standing but said nothing.

“You okay?”

He nodded, trying to push aside his moment of insecurity, and asked, “Where are we going?”

Logan walked forward and indicated a barn farther up the path they were on. “We’re going to get my truck.”

That brought Tate out of his dispirited thoughts as he laughed and fell back into step with Logan. “You own a truck?”

“Yes. I do. Got a problem with that?”

Tate grinned. “Nope. You just don’t strike me as the truck kind.”

They reached the barn and Logan walked them down the side to the door. He opened it and flicked on the light. In front of them was the oldest, most beaten-up truck Tate had ever seen.

“That’s your truck?”

“Yes.”

“It’s so…”

“So what?” Logan challenged as he pulled his keys from his pocket.

“Old?”

“Excuse me. I’ll have you know I was driving this baby all through college and she still runs like a dream.”

Tate watched as Logan walked over to run his hand over the scratched-up tailgate, and he was amazed that he even made that look sexy. Like he was stroking a lover.

“And it’s a she, huh?”

Now around at the passenger’s side, Logan opened the door and looked at him over the bed of the truck. “Yeah. Jealous?”

Laughing, Tate walked over to where Logan stood with a hand on the door and kissed him slowly on the mouth.

“I’m jealous of anything you stroke like that.”

“Get in the truck, Tate.”

“Or else?”

Logan stepped forward, crowding him back against the inside frame of the vehicle. “You’re not ready for the or else…”

Tate had a pretty good idea what it entailed, but the side of him that was always curious dared to say, “Tell me anyway.”

Logan lowered a hand between his legs, curled his fingers around his cock, and squeezed. “Get in, or I’ll turn you around and fuck you right here, bent over the front seat of my truck.”

The threat was real and the promise so fucking arousing that Tate felt his ass clench at the thought, but he also knew Logan was right. He wasn’t ready for something like that. He needed preparation before he took Logan inside him.

His hips bucked against Logan’s palm, and the desire in his eyes made Tate think he was about to get it whether he was ready or not, but Logan placed a kiss on his cheek and promised, “When I finally have you again, it’s not gonna be in a barn, Tate. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Tate groaned as Logan rubbed the heel of his hand up over him.

“I’ve been waiting and wanting, and when I’m finally back inside you, I’m not gonna leave until I’ve fucked you so hard and long that we can barely move. And we need to be inside for that.”

“Yes...goddamn, Logan,” he cursed, his breathing erratic, and then he was released.

“Now get in the fucking truck before I change my mind.”

Tate swallowed and scrambled up into the seat, waiting as Logan slammed the door shut and walked around the front to open the main door of the barn.

Once he got in the driver’s side and their belts were buckled, Logan looked his way and said, “I swear, you make me break all my rules. But you know what?”

“What?” he asked, curious as to what Logan was thinking.

“It’s time for some new rules.”

Ten minutes later, they were walking around the local grocery store, shopping for a week’s worth of food. Logan looked across the produce aisle to where Tate was picking out tomatoes, struck by how right it felt.

“Three?” he asked, holding one up.

“Yeah. Three’s good.”

It was interesting to him, learning what Tate liked and disliked other than on his pizza, and when they got to the seafood counter and he pointed at the lobster, the reaction was not what he’d expected.

Tate screwed his nose up and shook his head.

“You don’t like lobster?”

“Nope,” he replied, walking farther down the display to the shrimp and fish.

“Who doesn’t like lobster?” Logan asked and moved beside him.

“Me,” Tate reconfirmed, bumping their shoulders. “It just never appealed to me. I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

“But what about when it’s soaked in all that juicy butter?”

“Still…no.” Tate shrugged with a smirk.

“You’re a strange, strange man, Tate Morrison.”

Tate pointed inside the case. “I do like oysters.”

“Did you know it was reported that Casanova used to breakfast on fifty raw oysters every morning?”

Tate turned to him and Logan could see the wheels spinning when he finally said, “I’m thinking you’re just fine eating your toast and coffee.”

Logan grabbed Tate’s shirt, pulling him closer. “So you don’t think I need to up my oyster intake?”

“No,” Tate murmured. “I think you’re potent enough.”

Logan stroked his fingers over the small bruise on Tate’s neck. “Good, because I have to say, I’m not really a fan. Especially when there are other, more appetizing things to eat instead.”

Tate stepped away and pointed at him accusingly. “I thought we were shopping.”

“We are. Okay, since we can’t decide on seafood, how about steak? I can grill and we could have a salad and potatoes.”

Tate agreed and then started walking towards the rows of wine, calling out, “And how about a nice bottle of red?”

Oh yeah. Wine worked for him.

If they were going to have the talk he wanted, wine was definitely required.

“Make it two.”

When they returned home, they unloaded the groceries, filling the fridge.

Tate was seated on one of the two stools at the kitchen island watching Logan as he moved around in front of him. He’d been given a beer and told to sit his ass down, so that’s what he’d done.

Logan was currently getting the ingredients together to marinate their steaks, and as he bent down to look in a cupboard for a bowl, Tate was happy to inspect the way his khaki shorts stretched over his ass.

“I think this is the first time you’ve cooked for me. Should I be worried?”

Logan glanced up at him from where he was squatting and nodded. “Very.”

Tate chuckled and lifted the beer to his lips as Logan went back to fumbling his way through the pots and pans.

“Ah! Found it.”

He stood up and raised the bowl, triumphant, and Tate smiled.

“What?”

“You’re kind of cute when you’re being domestic. Who knew?”

The pan clanged down onto the counter and Logan placed his hands on the edge of the granite. “Did you just call me cute?”

Tongue-in-cheek, Tate replied, “Maybe. Is that a problem?”

“Yes, that’s a problem,” Logan informed him before he stalked around the counter.

Tate watched the way his fingers trailed over the surface. Then he raised his eyes and swiveled on the stool so Logan could step in between his legs.

“Puppies are cute. Babies are cute…” Logan took his hand off the counter to run his fingers over the top of Tate’s thigh and informed him, “I am not cute.”

Tate acted as if the fingers on his leg weren’t affecting him, but when they brushed over the bulge in his jeans, he knew that Logan knew better.

“Do you usually have this kind of reaction to puppies, Tate?”

Tate casually raised the beer from the counter and took a long sip. It was mind-blowing he had that kind of reaction to anything.

“Nope. But now that you mention it, you do have some similar qualities. Puppies also try to hide behind a loud bark.”

Logan’s eyes moved to the bruise on his neck and then back to his. “Are you saying my bark is much worse than my bite?”

Tate’s cock throbbed at the reminder.

“Mhmm.”

“I think you like it when I bite,” Logan guessed with unerring accuracy. Then he ran the tips of his fingers over the purplish mark on his neck. “Maybe you’d like another.”

Yes please, he thought as Logan stared down at him with a look that had Tate reaching for him. He slipped his hands under the hunter-green shirt Logan was wearing and traced his fingers along the top of his shorts.

“You aren’t always cute.”

“No?”

Tate shook his head and slid off the stool, coming to his feet. He looked Logan in the eye and admitted, “No. Most of the time you’re incredibly intimidating.”

He could tell his words blindsided Logan because he stopped what he was doing and took a step back. Before he was out of reach though, Tate hooked his finger into his shorts and drew him back.

“Where you going?”

“Tate…” he muttered softly.

Tate ran his hand up to Logan’s neck and cupped the back of it, bringing his face close enough that their noses touched. “Yes?”

“I…”

Now this is a first. Logan’s at a loss for words.

Tate ran his fingers through Logan’s hair and kissed the corner of his mouth. “What? Tell me.”

Logan’s arms encircled his waist and pulled him in until he had both arms banded around him. Tate wrapped his arms around Logan’s neck and held on.

How is this the first time we’ve shared a simple hug?

But there was nothing simple about it.

He nuzzled his face into Logan’s neck and pressed his lips there in a soft kiss, and Logan’s arms tightened.

“I don’t ever want to intimidate you. Not ever.”

The way Logan said it, and the way he gripped him as though he were an anchor, led Tate to believe that there was much more being said here—more than the two of them in the room.

He pulled away slightly and studied the serious expression now reflected on Logan’s face.

“Hey. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“It’s fine,” Logan said as he rubbed a hand over his face. He stepped away and made a move to walk back into the kitchen, but Tate grabbed his arm.

“It’s not fine.” He stubbornly faced off with Logan, and then dropped his arm. “I just want to understand.”

He heard Logan sigh and then say, “You will. Just let me finish this so we can eat tonight, okay?”

Tate nodded, but could tell Logan was shaken.

He wanted to know what was going on there. He rarely saw Logan rattled, but as he picked up the pan and turned his back on him, Tate knew that, in his own way, Logan was hiding.

Tate understood that feeling, so he would give him what he needed and be there when he was ready, just as he had been for him.

21.

Logan heard the door behind him shut and let out a sigh of relief.

Tate had given him some room, a second to breathe on his own, and in that moment, he couldn’t have loved him more.

Yes, I love him. Recklessly and without caution.

He was all in, and he wanted Tate more than his next breath.

He reached for the salt and, seeing the way his hand shook, clenched his fist. There was no way he was going to let that asshole fuck this up for him all these years later. Not with Tate.

He finished up the steaks, placed them back in the fridge to soak, and suddenly felt the need to shower. He’d taken one earlier this morning, but now he just felt dirty.

Thinking about his past did that to him, and he wondered if Tate would want him after everything he had to say. He hoped so, because he honestly couldn’t imagine his life without him.

Walking down to his bedroom, he removed his shirt and shorts and then wandered into the large bathroom to step in the shower. Turning on the spray, he sighed as the warm water hit him and he stuck his head under.

Yes. This is what I need.

If he could cleanse his mind, maybe he could then try and unburden his soul. Shifting so his back was under the faucet, he ran his hands up into his hair and closed his eyes.

He wanted to talk to Tate about this past week. Ask if he’d tried to get in touch with his parents, but instead, he was standing in the shower, shaking like a lost fucking cause.

For the first time in years, he really hated his inability to move forward and deal with the past, and he hated that Chris was still winning.

He tipped his head back under the water and tried to let the thoughts be washed from his mind. Maybe, if he was lucky, they’d get chased down the drain, never to be seen again. It wasn’t until he heard the shower door open that he wiped a hand over his face and saw Tate step inside, gloriously naked.

He was about to speak when Tate reached out and placed a finger against his lips.

“Shh…”

Logan licked the water off his top lip, and when his tongue touched Tate’s finger, he shook his head. “I don’t want silence ever again. Not with you.”

“What do you want?” Tate whispered over the running water. “Be honest.”

When he stepped closer and cupped either side of his neck, Logan’s heart ached as it pounded in his chest. Then he raised his hands to circle Tate’s wrists.

“I want to know where you are when you aren’t with me, and I’ll wish I’m there.”

Can’t get more honest than that.

He waited to see if Tate would go running, but instead, he licked the condensation from his lips and started to walk him backwards until his ass and shoulder blades were up against the glass wall of the shower.

Logan released his hold on Tate’s wrists and reached for his hips when he shook his head and gave him a cheeky grin.

“Put your hands on the glass, Mr. Mitchell.”

Fuck.

The order, the name—Tate was in full take mode, and Logan was ready.

He swallowed and flattened his palms on the glass by either side of his legs just as he’d been told.

“Very good,” Tate praised. “Now, about what you said. How about we make it a rule in this new rule book of ours? I’ll tell you where I am if you show me the same courtesy. I hated not knowing.”

Logan felt a little less idiotic after that confession and felt his lips twitch. “Yeah?”

Tate pressed his wet mouth to his and smiled against his lips. “Yeah.”

Logan almost whimpered as Tate sank his teeth into his bottom lip just the way he liked it.

“You don’t get it, do you? It wasn’t that I didn’t want you,” Tate confessed. “It was because I wanted you so much. I needed space to be able to think. Because around you, all I want to do is fall without thought.”

Before Logan could speak and tell him he felt the same, Tate took his lips in a kiss that just about blew the top of his fucking head off.

Jesus, Tate could kiss. He dove in and rubbed his tongue over the top of his, and Logan groaned when their bodies finally met. It had been way too long since he’d had Tate in front of him like this, and not touching him was going to be a fucking challenge.

Logan pushed his head forward, wanting more, but Tate pulled away just enough to inform him, “This time I’ve thought it all through, and I’m exactly where I want to be.”

The water pounded straight down the drain and steamed up the stall as Logan stood against the wall and gave himself over—which was exactly Tate’s goal.

He trailed his mouth down his neck and circled his nipple with his finger.

Tate then raised his eyes, and Logan almost lost the ability to stand upright when he licked his shiny lips and continued to draw a line down the center of his body until he was fingering the trimmed hair at the root of his cock.

“I wanted to touch you so bad when you sent me that photo this morning.”

Logan swallowed as his eyes closed against the pleasure of Tate circling him with his fist. “Yes,” he hissed out as Tate’s warm breath floated over his lips.

“But you know what I wanted more?”

“Tell me,” he demanded, hoping for—

“I wanted to taste you.”

Exactly that.

Logan grit his teeth as Tate ran his fist up his turgid length.

“This,” Tate told him, swiping his thumb over the head of his cock, “was all shiny and wet, and I wanted to lick it clean. I’ve become hooked on everything when it comes to you. Everything, Logan.”

Logan could see his chest rising and falling as he watched Tate lower down in front of him to his knees.

Oh, fuck yes. Please. Please do it. And he did.

Tate opened his mouth, took him between his lips, and sucked the tip of his cock. Logan felt his knees tremble and thought they were close to buckling, but he was determined to stay on his feet if it fucking killed him.

He pressed his fingers hard against the glass wall and thanked God no one else was in the house, because if they walked in, they’d get one hell of a view.

His ass pressed against the glass. Tate kneeling at his feet.

He looked down to Tate, who was running his tongue from the root of his shaft to the tip, and let out a long throaty sound as he lost the battle to keep his hands in place.

One of them found Tate’s hair, and he saw a small grin curve his mouth.

“Logan?” Tate asked.

Logan said nothing, just peered down at him.

“Give it to me this time. Don’t hold back. Let me have all of you.”

Logan closed his eyes and reminded himself to breathe.

Breathe and give him what he wants. He’s right there asking for you. So reach out and fucking take him.

Logan raised his other hand to Tate’s head and jutted his hips forward as he directed that sinful mouth over his cock. He bit back a curse at the euphoric feeling of making Tate suck him and enjoyed the blissful slide into ecstasy.

He held Tate’s head in place and began to move his hips, rolling them forward and pushing between those clever and wet lips. As they sucked on him, Logan continued to watch himself time and time again disappear inside Tate’s mouth.

He drew his fingers down Tate’s cheek, and when his eyes opened and looked up at him, Logan felt practically paralyzed from the adoration he could see there. He stumbled slightly and once again found his backside against the glass as Tate got up onto his knees to take him deeper.

How he’d gotten so damn lucky, he had no idea, but if it took slicing open his wounds to keep Tate, then he was willing to rip them open and bleed all over himself.

Tate was so incredibly turned on he wanted to reach down and jack himself off, but that wasn’t the purpose or goal here—giving Logan his undivided attention was.

He’d left him in the kitchen to finish up getting things ready for dinner, but when he hadn’t joined him out on the porch, Tate had gone searching.

When he’d heard the shower in the master bedroom running, he’d stepped inside to see a bed the same size as the one he’d slept in, all neatly made with Logan’s clothes folded on the end.

He hadn’t gone into the bathroom with the intention of joining Logan, but maybe cornering him and making him talk. However, the second he’d stepped inside the steamy room and saw the shower, his mouth had fallen open. There, in the center of the bathroom, was a rain showerhead hanging down over a large open-roof shower made completely out of glass, and Logan was visible from every angle.

Tate’s intentions had taken a dramatic turn at that point, and now, as he placed his palms on Logan’s spread thighs and opened his mouth, he was more than happy with the way things had turned out.

Positioned at Logan’s feet, he waited for him to slide back inside along his tongue, and when he did, Tate tightened his lips around his thick length. The, “Ahh,” that hit his ears over the fall of water made him feel like the most powerful person on the planet, and the fingers that twisted in his hair made his own cock ache.

He hadn’t been lying. He loved Logan’s hands in his hair. And right now, he was using them to control what pace he wanted to fuck his mouth with.

The salty drops of pre-come coating his tongue had him eager for more, and at the same time, he was aware that he’d never wanted the taste of someone as much as he did Logan.

When did I get so greedy?

He felt insatiable, as if he couldn’t get enough—couldn’t get close enough.

“Fuck,” he heard above him, and Logan pulled him forward as he jammed his hips out, pushing deeper—giving it to him the way he’d asked. Not holding back.

Yes, Tate thought, on my tongue. I want to taste you on my tongue.

The way Logan was moving against him was so fucking hot there was no way he could stop his own climax from building inside of him. Tate knew it wouldn’t be long before he exploded, and he was ready.

Ready to release everything that Logan had built in him.

“So fucking close, Tate. I’m so close...”

Tate grabbed his own cock and started stroking. He closed his eyes and relaxed his jaw while Logan’s fingers clenched and he used him as he never had before.

Gone was the careful, tentative man who’d taught him what to do, and in his place was a man out of control—a man taking his pleasure.

A man he loved.

Tate smoothed his other hand over Logan’s thigh and up to cradle his balls before he pushed a finger back between his cheeks. The slight stimulation was all that was needed.

Logan exploded on his tongue with a shout so loud that Tate’s ears rang, and as he swallowed the creamy fluid down, he gave several hard pulls of his own flesh and felt his orgasm hit. Then he shot his load all over the shower floor.

Tate looked up to where Logan had slumped back against the glass and closed his eyes. He drew his mouth off him, and when he felt the fingers in his hair loosen and stroke the back of his head, he didn’t get up. He rested on his heels, placed his cheek against Logan’s thigh, and once again stared up at him.

This time when Logan glanced down, his eyes seemed to be thanking him, but no words were exchanged. Instead, Tate gave a silent wink, leaned in, and kissed his thigh. No words were needed.

22.

Dinner went by quickly enough, and once they were done, they ended up in the living room.

It’s so unusual to be sharing this space with someone, Logan thought as he sat in his favored recliner and watched Tate grab a cushion off the couch so he could lie on the floor.

“You can lie up there, you know.”

Tate shook his head and leaned the cushion back against the leather. “No way. And this rug is comfy anyway.”

Logan picked up the wine he’d poured and looked down at Tate, who was laid out on his sheepskin rug. “Okay. But just know, when your ass goes numb, you’re more than welcome to move it to the soft Italian leather couch.”

“Are you showing off or just concerned for the welfare of my ass?”

“If I were concerned for its welfare, I wouldn’t be thinking about all the ways I’m going to devour it later,” he told him with a wink.

Tate stretched his arms over his head, making the red T-shirt he was wearing ride up. “So sure of yourself.”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”

Tate gave him a look so hot it would melt fucking steel. “Not at all. You can have anything you want.”

Logan crossed his legs out in front of himself and took another sip of his drink. “Anything, huh?”

“Within reason, of course.”

“Now I’m trying to think of something that would be out of reason,” Logan mused.

“Oh, I’m sure you could come up with something, and even then, you’d dress it up in a way that would probably make me want it.”

“Now what makes you say that?”

“Did you forget how we met?”

Swallowing another sip of wine, Logan lowered his arm to the side of the chair. “I remember everything from the first time I saw you.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. You tried to hook me up with a woman,” Logan reminded him dryly.

Tate started laughing then asked, “Well, how was I supposed to know that you—”

“Were imagining you kneeling at my feet in your work clothes?” Logan shrugged. “You weren’t—until I told you.”

Tate calmed and then crossed his legs at the ankles. “Yeah. I’m really not sure how I worked that out since you’re so subtle and all.”

“Aren’t you hilarious tonight.”

“I’m relaxed. Probably for the first time in two weeks. Ever since my sis—Jill—found us, I’ve been a fucking basket case. Then Sunday happened and everything that came after that.”

Logan shared the sentiment, but there were still things they needed to discuss. “About that…”

“Logan—”

“No, let me say this. I’m not mad. Not anymore.” He paused, trying to decide the best way to say what he was thinking. “I wanted to be there for you after Sunday with your family. I wanted to prove to you that I wouldn’t just up and leave because things got hard. But that was what I wanted. What I needed. Not what you did, and I understand that now.”

He watched Tate’s face, trying to gauge what he was thinking from his expression, but he was giving nothing away, just quiet contemplation, so he continued.

“If you want to talk about what happened last week, I want you to know that I’m here to listen. That’s all. I don’t think I actually got to say that.”

Having said what he wanted, Logan waited to see if Tate had anything to add. He didn’t immediately talk, but then he said softly, “Last week was rough.”

Logan figured as much. If it’d been rough on him, he couldn’t imagine how Tate had felt.

“I switched up my shifts with Amelia just to take some time, and—”

“To make sure I didn’t track you down?”

Tate gave him an apologetic shrug. “Maybe a little. Like it mattered in the scheme of things. You know where I live.”

“Yeah. But you knew I wouldn’t go there. You told me not to.”

Tate scratched his stomach and asked, “Is it fucked up that I kind of wanted you to?”

Logan felt his chest tighten as he made himself answer. “No. You’ll never know how much I wanted to.”

Tate sighed, and rubbed his eyes. “I called my mom on Monday. She didn’t answer. I left her a message that I wanted to talk, and she never called back.”

Hearing that made Logan’s blood boil. Nothing pissed him off more than closed-minded bigots, but he kept his mouth shut. This was, after all, Tate’s family.

“I called again Tuesday, and still nothing. No answer, no reply to my voicemail. So I decided to try Jill. Her phone didn’t even ring. It just went straight to voicemail as if she’d just ignored me. Ignored her brother after knowing what happened. Who does that?” Tate’s voice slowly rose as his disgust took ahold of him, and then he placed an arm over his eyes.

Sometimes it was easier to say the hard things when you pretended no one was listening.

“Wednesday, I called again, and…” Tate paused and Logan waited—for what, he wasn’t sure. “I called…and my mom’s phone has been disconnected.”

Oh fuck. How can someone—no, not someone, Tate’s parents—just fucking cut him off?

It was infuriating, sickening, and Logan had no clue how Tate seemed so put together. But he kept his mouth shut and waited to see what else he had to say.

“That was a pretty shitty night,” Tate admitted and removed his arm to look at him. His brown eyes were full of turmoil from the inner conflict he was still dealing with, but they were also full of something else—conviction. “I knew they were going to be mad, but I never thought for a second they would disown me. Their own son. So I made a decision.”

Logan didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Tate sat up and clasped his arms around his knees.

“I was going to live for me,” he announced. “For what makes me happy. And you make me happy, Logan.”

Logan exhaled as Tate pinned him with serious eyes.

“You make me crazy and furious and out of my mind with need, but in the end, you make me so fucking happy. I can’t ever remember feeling this way. And no one is going to tell me it’s wrong. No one.”

Logan looked across the room to the man he thought he’d lost and said exactly what he was feeling.

“I love you.”

Tate didn’t move except to smile as he replied, “I love you too.”

Logan had never believed words more as they lingered between them.

The only thing he still needed to know was if Tate accepted them as a couple—together. If, when it really came down to being out in public, being associated with him as his other half, Tate was ready for that.

Would he ever be?

Logan wondered the best way to approach his concern and stated softly, “A lot happened this past week, and a lot was said. I need to know what you mean when you say those words to me, Tate. And if it’s the same as what I mean.”

Tate looked at him over his knees and then frowned. “I don’t understand. I told you how I feel.”

“I know.”

“Then what are you talking about? Do you still not believe me?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then what? Because that’s what it sounds like.”

Logan raised his glass and finished his drink before placing it down on the side table. “It’s easy to say words, but sometimes following them through is harder. That’s all.”

“Are you serious right now?” Tate demanded, quickly getting to his feet. “I’m pretty sure I followed through, Logan.”

Logan could tell he’d once again said the wrong thing, and he scrambled to get it right. “Don’t be mad. I’m saying this all wrong.”

“Then start saying it right.” Tate glared at him.

Logan scooted forward on the seat. “Please sit back down,” he implored.

Tate took a seat, this time on the couch, and waited.

Shit. This is not how I imagined telling him. Not while he’s pissed off at me.

But then again, when it came to spilling his guts, he was fantastic at putting his foot in his mouth. Around Tate, he seemed like a fucking professional.

“I want to tell you something about me. The reason I don’t…didn’t date up until now.” He swallowed and looked Tate in the eye. “Until you.”

Tate remained silent, and then he finally uncrossed his arms. “I thought it was because of Chris.”

“It was…”

As his voice trailed off, Tate said quietly, “So tell me then.”

Thinking about it and actually saying it were totally different. So he decided why not start with the biggest shock first.

“I didn’t just date Chris in college.”

Tate didn’t say anything, just sat staring at him as if he hadn’t even spoken.

“I also dated him for two years once I was out.”

That got a response.

“Wait. What? I thought you two ended things after Cole kicked his ass.”

Logan raised a shaky hand and rubbed his fingers across his lips. He’d never told anyone what he was about to say. Not even Cole.

“We did end our relationship in college. After months of spending all my spare time with him, thinking we had something real, it ended rather publicly in his dorm hall by him punching me in the face. He pretty much told me to fuck off, and luckily for me, Cole happened to see and broke it up.”

Tate tilted his head to the side, confused. “Right, and then you said you slept with all his girlfriends.”

Did I? Shit. He didn’t even remember telling Tate that part.

“Yeah, I kind of made it my mission to prove I was better off without him.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “Guess I really failed making that point.”

“You’re telling me that you started dating again, out of college? When? Where did you even see him?” Tate paused and then asked, “Is he a lawyer too?”

Logan shook his head.

Fuck. He really didn’t want to get into all of this, but he knew it needed to be said.

“I ran into him at a club.”

“A club? Like a dance club?”

“No,” he said, keeping his voice calm as he explained, “A sex club.”

Tate’s eyebrows nearly hit the top of his hairline as his jaw fell open.

“It was my first time there. And my last. I was young and heard about this private club that had the most beautiful men who would do whatever you wanted—if you paid the price. I was curious and…I had the money.”

“So that’s what you spent it on?”

“Hey. It was one time, and I didn’t actually do anything because I walked in the door, saw him in the foyer, and turned around to get the hell out of there.”

Tate looked as if he were trying to catch up. “Then how—”

“He recognized me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “He followed me outside and caught up to me.”

“Did he look the same?” Tate asked as if he didn’t really want to know but couldn’t help himself.

He wasn’t about to lie, so he answered honestly. “He looked better.”

“Of course he did,” Tate mumbled.

Logan waited until Tate turned to him, and then he gave a half smile. “You’re a million times sexier than he could ever hope to be.”

Tate rolled his eyes. “Keep going.”

Logan smirked and then got back on track.

“At first, he was”—he thought back to that night and could clearly remember the panic on Chris’s face—“freaked out. It was gay night at the club, and he didn’t think he’d run into anyone he knew due to the high price tag. The last fucking person I’m sure he expected to see was me.”

“So what’d he do?” Tate asked, seeming genuinely curious.

“He asked me what I was doing there. I told him I was there to fuck as many guys as I could for the price of admission. Then he grabbed my shirt, pulled me close, and whispered in my ear—” Logan stopped.

“What?” Tate demanded, pulling him from the past. “What did he say to you, Logan?”

Logan blinked away the memory and focused again on the man encouraging him to open up and trust him.

“He whispered, ‘Pity you already paid. I would’ve fucked you for free.’”

Tate’s eyes widened. He stood and started pacing the length of the living room before stopping in front of the fireplace and reaching out to put a hand on the stone mantel. He then turned to face Logan where he was still seated.

“I really hate this fucker.”

I do too.

“Just finish the story, would you? So I never have to hear it again.”

Logan stood, walked over to where Tate was standing, and did as requested.

“I loved the fact that he wanted me again, and even though I knew I shouldn’t, I wanted him too. So I let him fuck me behind the club that night, and I loved it. It wasn’t gentle. It was brutal and hard, and a small part of me believed I deserved it since I was the sick fuck who was still hard for a guy who’d used me. But that wasn’t the end of it. He took me back to his house and spent the entire night inside me. He told me how much he’d missed me. How he regretted what happened back then and the way he’d treated me. That maybe this was a sign, a second chance—I was stupid enough to believe him.” Logan paused and shook his head. “For the next two years, I was at his beck and call. In private, he was everything I wanted, just like when we were in school. He was attentive, smart, and funny, but just like in college, he made sure to keep me a secret and made me very aware that if I told anyone, it would be over. So no one knew I was seeing him. I wasn’t allowed to call him ever, and I knew nothing about him other than what he told me. When Cole asked who I was seeing, I would lie and tell him no one. Because that’s what Chris wanted, what he asked of me—if I loved him.”

Tate finally turned his head to face him, and Logan could see the question in his eyes.

“Did you love him?”

He’d asked himself that question many times, and all he could come up with was, “When it came to Chris, I was weak, and he knew it. He was my first, and he knew exactly what buttons to push to get to me. I was a fucking hazard to myself back then. You wouldn’t have even recognized me.”

“How’d it finally end?” Tate’s voice was low, and Logan knew he was pissed. Possibly disgusted at the fact he was with a person who’d had such low self-esteem that he’d stayed with someone who wouldn’t acknowledge his existence for years.

Not months—fucking years.

“I broke it off,” Logan said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Why?”

He didn’t answer right away.

How to say the words? How to admit—

“Why, Logan?” Tate cut in as he angled his face to see him.

“Because I went to work one day and Cole introduced me to his wife. He was so damn happy it was sickening. But at the same time, I realized what I would never have.”

Tate didn’t say anything, so he just continued on.

“They got married two weeks after knowing each other. Did she tell you that? One day I was meeting Rachel, his girlfriend, the next I met Mrs. Madison.”

Tate dropped his hands and turned to face him, shaking his head. “No, she didn’t.”

“Yep. They met months back, briefly. Then Cole chased her down, and two weeks later, they were hitched. Crazy fools. Crazy fools who were in love.”

Logan cupped the back of his neck and grimaced.

“I tried to justify the way Chris treated me. That the more I suffered, the more it proved to him I cared. I held on to the misguided belief that he would eventually introduce me to his family and I’d be able to introduce him to mine. But I knew that would never happen. I knew nothing about him, but he always knew what to say, how to keep me coming back. Just when I would be determined to leave, he’d do something kind or say something right to make me think he cared. He was a master manipulator. But nothing would ever change the fact that he was ashamed to be with me. That’s not love, and eventually, the kindest words twisted and turned into the cruelest ones. So I finally decided to tell him it was over, that I was done.”

Tate looked as if he wanted to say something but instead held his tongue.

“He didn’t take it well, and we got into an argument. I said some horrible things. Things I’m not proud of. But then he tried something he had once before. He went to punch me, but I’d learned that lesson. I was bigger than I was back in college, and stronger...”

Logan swallowed, feeling nauseated. He knew he did a good job of presenting to the world a loud and confident man, but deep down, he was still that college kid—that man who’d let himself believe in forevers…

“He swung his fist…but I beat him to the punch. I landed several to his face and stomach, and he hit the floor at my feet. Just lay there like a fucking sack. But I couldn’t stop. I was so fucking angry I kept going. I’d never wanted to physically hurt someone the way I did him. I wanted him to suffer. Suffer the same way I had for years because of him. For all the times he’d intimidated me, denied me, made me deny myself—made me feel ashamed of who I was.” Logan stopped talking and took several heaving breaths. “If it hadn’t been for Cole once again saving the day by calling my cell phone, I’m not sure I would’ve stopped.” He ceased talking. He didn’t know what else to say.

He’d never told anyone what had happened with Chris, the fact that he’d put the guy in a hospital. He disgusted himself, and when Tate’s hand brushed his shoulder, he wondered how he could bear to touch him.

Logan glanced up to see that his eyes were full of compassion and full of pity.

Pity for me.

“You would’ve stopped,” he whispered.

Logan looked away. He’d never been more ashamed of himself than he was standing there before this man—this honest and decent man.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

Logan brought his face up so they were eye to eye, and Tate slid his hand up to grip the back of his neck.

“I know you, and Logan…you would’ve stopped.”

Logan clenched his hands inside his pockets, and when Tate took a step closer, he had to steel himself from moving away.

“You were in an abusive relationship, and you finally stood up for yourself. Just because he didn’t beat you daily doesn’t mean he wasn’t abusing you. He was a bully. He made you afraid to be who you were.”

Logan blinked, trying to fight back tears as Tate continued talking. The relief of unburdening himself had now been replaced with the fear of what Tate would think.

“He took advantage of your feelings.” Tate paused and then whispered, “Logan?” He refocused on Tate and felt his heart just about stop when he said, “I will never take advantage of you. Not ever. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

That right there was what the words ‘I love you’ meant to him—trust—and he had entrusted Tate with every secret he had, even the one he was most ashamed of.

23.

Tate ran his hand down Logan’s shoulder and arm until he could pull his free of his pocket. He interlaced their fingers and drew him toward the center of the living room.

“Lie down with me.”

Logan frowned at him but moved slowly in the direction he was leading him. When they stopped, Tate kissed the corner of his mouth and then slowly knelt at his feet. Once he was there, he watched Logan run a hand back through his hair. The expression on his face was one Tate had never seen before.

He looked lost—and Tate was determined to bring him back.

“Tate, I—”

“Lie down with me,” he asked again, insistent on bringing Logan out of the headspace he was currently in.

Logan didn’t argue this time. Instead, he knelt opposite him and gazed off over his shoulder.

“Be with me,” Tate invited, reaching out to run his fingers along the short hair covering Logan’s jawline. “Put your hands on me, and take me.”

When Logan turned his face back toward him, Tate’s breath caught in his throat. The lost look from moments earlier was gone, replaced with one full of wonderment.

“God, you’re amazing. How’d I get so lucky?”

Tate ran his thumb over Logan’s chin and answered, “Because you’re persistent and pretty damn amazing yourself.”

Logan kissed the thumb stroking him, and then Tate leaned forward and pressed his lips to Logan’s.

A promise—I’m yours. If you want to be mine.

He felt Logan’s hands under the back of his shirt and warm fingers stroked their way up his spine. Goose bumps rose over his skin as Tate lifted his arms and whispered to Logan, “Take it off.”

Logan moved back a little and drew the shirt off him, dropping it to the floor beside them.

Tate leaned forward, recaptured Logan’s mouth in a heated kiss, and started to undo the buttons of his shirt from the bottom up. As Logan’s tongue entered his mouth, Tate groaned and managed two more buttons.

Damn, the taste of him. I can’t get enough.

When he reached the top button, he pushed the shirt apart and drew it off Logan’s shoulders. He pulled his mouth away but didn’t go far as he dropped it on his own discarded shirt. He traced a line to the center of Logan’s sternum and twirled his finger through the short hair smattering his chest, so unlike his own hairless torso.

“I like this.”

Logan placed a hand over his, stilling it. “So do I.”

“I meant the hair.”

Tate watched as Logan smoothed his hands down his shoulders and chest to his nipples, which he lightly circled.

“You’re so smooth. I always think like honey.”

“Honey, huh?” Tate chuckled and then flinched slightly when a finger pinched his nipple.

“Yes. Sweet,” Logan told him, leaning in to trace his tongue over his lip, “and sticky.”

He sighed as Logan lowered his mouth to his shoulder and kissed a path over to his neck, where he licked the bruise he’d made that morning. He shivered at the reminder.

“I want to make another one of these.”

He felt Logan’s hands at the button of his jeans.

“Right. Here,” Logan decided as he unbuttoned and unzipped him, touching the tight skin of his lower abdomen.

“I think you need to be a little more specific.”

“You do, do you?”

Tate nodded as Logan’s hands slipped into the seat of his jeans and pushed them down his hips to pool at his knees. “Yes. I think you need to check up close and personal. Find exactly the right spot.”

Logan squeezed his ass cheeks and quietly ordered, “Lie down for me, Tate.”

He did as requested, lying down on the sheepskin rug and resting his head back against the pillow he’d put there earlier. He reached down to remove his jeans, and Logan placed a hand on his thigh.

“No.”

“No?”

Logan stood up beside him, took off his own jeans, and grabbed a second pillow before he came back down next to him. “Let me.” He gripped both sides of the denim and peeled them down his legs. Then he tugged them free from his ankles and threw them behind him.

Tate took a quick breath as Logan trailed his fingertips up his shin and knee, making his cock ache even more than it already was.

When those taunting fingers reached his hips, Logan murmured, “Lift.”

Tate lifted up, and Logan placed the pillow under him.

“Perfect.” Then Logan knelt between his thighs and demanded gently, “Bend your legs.”

The order was so similar to the one he’d given only a week ago that Tate felt a small smile tug at his lips. Oh, how the tables had turned, and he loved that about them. Each was willing to give themselves over to the other.

As he bent his legs so his feet were flat on the floor, Logan circled his erection and began to masturbate.

“I love watching you,” Tate spoke up so Logan would hear.

Logan’s eyes found his, then his tongue swiped a wet path over his top lip. “I love it when you watch me.”

Tate moved his own hand down to start stroking his cock in response.

Logan’s eyes followed and his mouth parted around a soft grunt of pleasure as he continued to work himself over.

Logan taking his pleasure was like watching the sexiest porn video Tate could imagine. It got him hard, horny, and so fucking ready to explode that nothing else was needed, and when Logan turned it all on him, Tate knew he better be ready because he was coming for him—or more likely, he’d be coming for Logan.

They watched one another for several minutes, and then Logan finally gave a smile that made Tate’s heart thump.

It wasn’t charming, and it wasn’t cocky. It was sensual, a true representation of Logan’s carnal side. He was like a sleek, sensual animal, and when he released his shaft and crawled his way up so their faces were inches apart, Tate was once again happy to be his prey.

“I’m going to spend all night inside you. Just like I said I would. But I think I’ll take my time getting there. Slow and steady,” he promised, and Tate couldn’t resist raising his head to kiss him.

He stroked the backs of his fingers down Logan’s sides, and when he shuddered, Tate realized he’d just discovered something new. “Ticklish?”

Logan didn’t answer. There was no way he was giving that information to a tease like Tate. Instead, he kissed him hard and then pulled away. When he got to his feet, Tate moved up to his elbows and Logan could see the confusion on his face.

“Where are you—”

“Condoms, lube. We need them.”

“Oh.” Tate lay back and settled his head against the pillow. “I was hoping you’d…” he trailed off and had Logan instantly curious.

“That I’d…?”

“You know…”

Logan wondered what he was trying to say. Yeah, they’d definitely come a long way in the past few days, but they still needed to be—

“Use your tongue.”

Oh, that’s what he wants. Dirty, dirty Tate.

Logan grinned thinking about what Tate wanted and then promised, “I’m going to put my tongue in every part of you. But after that,” he stroked his cock and Tate’s hips arched, shoving his own up through his fist, “I’m going to stretch you nice and slow so I can finally have you flat on your back, watching. Watching me take you.”

Tate nodded, clearly loving that idea, and when Logan spun on his toes to go and get what he needed, he heard his name. He turned back, and Tate’s heavy-lidded eyes were focused directly on him as he pleaded, “Hurry.”

Fuck. You don’t have to tell me twice. Logan practically sprinted to the bathroom. He got what they needed, and when he came back out into the living room, the sight that greeted him just about destroyed him.

Tate was still working his cock, but his eyes were closed and he had a second hand down between his legs, under his balls, rubbing the taut strip of skin that led to his hole.

Logan walked over to stand between his ankles and dropped what was in his hands on the couch, alerting Tate to his presence. When Tate’s eyes opened and spotted him, he started to remove his hand, but Logan did not want that.

“No. Don’t stop,” he told him, his voice low and strained as he watched Tate move his hand back to where it had been.

Logan got to his knees and smoothed both of his palms down the top of Tate’s bent legs from his knees to the V of his groin. He continued to stroke Tate’s thighs, first along the top, then down the outside, and finally up the inside as Tate pushed his hips up off the pillow.

“God, Logan. Do something.”

Logan curled his hands under Tate’s legs. Then, with his hands firmly behind Tate’s knees, he added enough pressure until his legs were bent back by his chest.

Tate’s eyes were wide. So was the rest of him as Logan lowered his head and swiped his tongue up the length of his cock.

“Ahh,” left Tate’s mouth, and Logan repeated the move, nosing his balls before dragging his tongue down his perineum. It wasn’t until one of Tate’s hands clamped onto the back of his head that Logan really let loose.

He stiffened his tongue and pushed it directly inside Tate’s hole, which was clenching with each wet pass. When he lifted his head to gain a position so he could use his fingers, Tate moaned as if he were disappointed that he’d stopped.

“Don’t worry. I’m not done with you yet,” he assured him. “Just getting a better position.” Logan shifted until he was stretched out on his stomach with his dick pressed against the sheepskin wool. “Keep your legs bent back in the air, just like that, okay?”

Tate said nothing as he lay on his back and grabbed his knees, holding them wide apart, just as he’d been told.

Logan kept his palms on the backs of Tate’s thighs, holding him in place, and then lowered his head back down, sucking the skin of his scrotum.

From this angle, Logan could see it all and he could get his mouth on everything. He kissed and sucked the underside of Tate’s cock down to his tightly scrunched balls. Then he raised his head to bring his fingers into play.

Tate held his legs out of the way as Logan rubbed two fingers over his pucker, and the sounds coming out of him were fucking unreal. Between the low moan and the panting breaths, Tate had him a hair trigger away from coming before he even got inside. Logan heard his own muffled growl when Tate’s fingers slid into the back of his hair to encourage him to keep going.

He moved his mouth back down between Tate’s cheeks and tongued his hole before he slowly pressed a finger inside.

Tate’s curse ricocheted around the high-vaulted ceiling and had Logan moving his finger in and out of him. He raised his eyes to see Tate frantically jerking himself, and when he added a second finger and dragged it over his prostate, stretching him, it was his name Tate chanted in a voice that was thick and full of desire.

When he was satisfied with the way Tate was responding, Logan removed his fingers, shoved Tate’s thighs high against his chest, and used his tongue to bring Tate to the brink of release—over and over.

“Logan, fuck…I can’t...please,” he heard from above and lifted his head.

That was when he felt his heart lift of the burden he’d laid out tonight.

The man looking at him had nothing but love and trust in his eyes, and Logan knew they were all right—even after everything he’d confessed tonight.

He lowered Tate’s legs to the rug and leaned over to grab the condom and lube. He was quick with both, making sure to thoroughly slick his cock and Tate’s waiting body. Then he was back between Tate’s legs, lining himself up.

He’d dreamt about this moment.

The moment he’d be making love with someone.

As Tate stared up at him, Logan knew that this was that moment.

He moved over him, positioned his cock, and slid home.

Tate was ready. God, was he fucking ready.

Logan had worked him into a frenzied state of all-consuming lust.

He felt the wide head of Logan’s cock push against him, and he waited for the sharp bite of pain. He must have been too far gone though, because when Logan came down over him and his hips thrust forward, Tate could only groan from the sensation of having him deep inside. Filling him.

No pain. Just intense pleasure.

He wrapped his legs around Logan’s hips, and held on as he started to move. He could feel Logan’s lips on his neck and ear as his hips began a slow, torturous roll, rocking their groins together. Tate could hear Logan’s breathing as he pushed his cock in and out of him, causing a beautiful friction.

Tate brought his hands to Logan’s hair and held on when he braced his hands on either side of him to get more leverage. He angled his hips up and watched Logan’s face as he continued to slide in and out of him and whispered, “I love you.”

It was clear that this time was different. Each of them looked into the other’s eyes, and Tate could see all that he felt reflected back at him. He arched his neck and felt a hand at the side of his face as Logan brushed a sweaty curl from his cheek.

He blinked and smiled up at him. Logan closed his eyes as if he couldn’t stand to witness any more emotion, but then Tate realized that wasn’t the case at all.

Logan’s hips had sped up, his fingers were clutching the rug beneath them, and as he threw his head back, he clenched his teeth and came with fury.

My emotions aren’t scaring him…they’re sending him over the edge. That revelation was both powerful and so fucking sexy. Tate watched and waited with his legs wrapped around Logan’s waist and his hands on his shoulders.

Logan opened his amazing blue eyes and smiled down at him. “Want to come? I believe it’s your turn.”

Tate nodded and was shocked as hell when Logan pulled out, grabbed a second condom, and then slid back inside. He was still fucking erect.

“But you just—”

Logan rested his forearms on either side of his head and kissed his shoulder. “Mhmm,” he agreed. “What can I say? You inspire me.”

Tate cursed as Logan rubbed the entire length of his body over his. Then he moved to the side and reached down to take his cock into his hand. Logan’s palm was slick with lube, and with that added stimulation, Tate was there. His orgasm hit him like a Mack truck and he came all over his stomach and Logan’s hand, with Logan’s cock buried deep inside him.

His man was something else, and as he opened his eyes and saw Logan smiling down at him, Tate wondered how anyone could be ashamed of being with him.

He wanted everyone to know—Logan was his.

24.

The following morning, Logan suggested they pack a lunch and go for a walk around his property. Tate liked the idea because he got the feeling this was a part of Logan that he rarely, if ever, shared with anyone. It made him feel special to think he’d share it with him.

They made some sandwiches, and Logan grabbed a bottle of wine, which Tate laughed at. “Sandwiches and wine?”

“Yeah. So?”

Tate held his hands up. “Nothing.”

Logan opened the fridge and checked out the contents. “Well, I have beer, wine, and bottled water.”

“Let’s go with the water. If you’re lucky, I’ll let you get me drunk later and take advantage.”

Logan grabbed several bottles and put them in the backpack. “If I’m lucky, huh? Maybe you’ll be the lucky one.”

Tate knew Logan was joking but couldn’t help from telling him seriously, “I’m already the lucky one.”

He saw Logan stop what he was doing and grip the handles of the bag. When he walked around the kitchen counter, he stopped beside him and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“See? You are sweet.”

Tate turned his head and returned the kiss before lightly nipping Logan’s bottom lip. “Not always.”

Logan’s eyes sparkled at him, and when he pulled away and walked toward the door, Tate heard, “Thank God.”

When they got outside, Tate put his sunglasses on and reached for Logan’s hand. Funny that, even dressed in shorts and a shirt, Logan still looked like he was ready for a runway. Always so put together. The only difference was the short beard he was now sporting.

“You going to keep that?” he asked, pointing to the scruff.

Logan reached up to stroke the hair on his face and shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you like it?”

“I do. But I like you clean-shaven too.”

Logan seemed to contemplate that for a moment as they walked down the road leading away from the house and toward the back pond. “The beard was my second act of rebellion.”

Tate stepped a little ahead of him, and turned so he was walking backwards. “What was the first?”

“I smashed my fucking coffee table.”

Tate stopped. “You did not.”

“I did.”

“When?”

Logan stepped forward, took his chin between his thumb and forefinger, and tilted his face up. “The night you told me to fuck off.”

“I never said, ‘Fuck off,’” Tate reminded him. “I said I needed space.”

Logan’s eyes flickered over his face and he growled, “Never again, Tate. I said we were making new rules. One of them is no fucking silence. If you need space, you can have it...maybe. But you don’t get to ignore me for a week.”

Tate touched a hand to Logan’s chest and dug his fingers in. “Agreed. Do I get to add to this rule book?”

“Depends if I like the rule or not. Plus, you added one yesterday. I think that’s enough out of you. Best to leave it to the professionals.”

“What?” Tate scoffed and pulled away. “That’s not fair.”

They both started walking again, and Logan said, “Don’t care.”

“Is that how you win in court? Someone presents evidence you don’t like and you shrug and say, ‘I don’t care, Your Honor.’”

Tate saw Logan shake his head. Then he turned to look at him.

“No. I win because I’m the best.”

“And modest too,” Tate added tongue-in-cheek.

“No time for modesty when you’re out to win.”

“Ahh, and you’re always out to win.”

“Well, who wants to lose?”

Tate chuckled as they made a turn along the path, and he kicked the leaves on the ground. “Well you lost pretty spectacularly at game night.”

“Did I say you were sweet earlier? I think I was in a sex coma. You are not sweet.”

“No?” Tate asked.

Logan let go of his hand and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him close. “No. You’re trouble.”

Tate shoved away from him and laughed. “I’m trouble? Yeah, right.”

Logan put his hands in his pockets and nodded. “Yep. Trouble from the second I saw you.”

“The second you saw me, you were trying to fuck me.”

“That’s true,” Logan agreed.

“So that would mean you were—”

“Focused?”

“No.”

“Determined?”

Tate rolled his eyes. “Can I—”

“Smart. That makes me the smartest fucker around.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Logan grabbed his hand and winked. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

Tate found the smile Logan was aiming his way so damn contagious that he left their conversation right there. There was nothing more he needed to add to make that moment sheer perfection.

“Sit down, would you? Damn, you’re fidgety.”

Logan looked up at Tate from where he was seated on the blanket. They’d made their way around to the back end of the grounds to one of the spring-fed ponds.

“Well, I quit smoking,” Tate told him, shaking his hands out by his sides.

Logan said nothing for a moment, but he discovered that this revelation made him really fucking happy.

“Did you now?”

“Yep. Last week. I was halfway through a pack, looked at it, and decided I wasn’t going to do it anymore.”

“Just like that?”

Tate nodded. “Yep. Just like that.”

“No cravings?”

Tate’s mouth quirked at the side as he ran his gaze down over him. “Not for a cigarette.”

“Swapping one addiction for another?”

“Maybe. Are you complaining?”

Logan gave a wolfish grin. “Definitely not.”

“Didn’t think so. Plus, I don’t know…I just have a lot of energy today.”

“Have you always been like that? Full of energy?”

“Pretty much. As a kid, I never sat still. My mom always—”

Tate stopped talking and frowned, then he turned away. He started walking down to the edge of the water, and Logan stood to follow. Stopping behind him, he reached out to offer a comforting hand, hesitated for just a second, and then gripped each of Tate’s biceps.

He felt him tense. Then he leaned back into him, and Logan wrapped an arm around his chest.

“You okay?” he asked as he rested his chin on Tate’s shoulder.

Tate angled his head to the side so their hair was touching and then reached up to hold his hand where it rested on his chest.

“Yeah. I just…” Tate paused as if he were trying to think of the words to say. “I just can’t believe she could be this cruel. To talk about you—”

“Me?” Logan asked. “No, Tate. Don’t you even think about me. This is about you. What she did to you was...I couldn’t even imagine how you felt then or are feeling right now.”

“I feel confused.”

That wasn’t the word Logan had expected to hear.

“I’m confused because the woman I grew up with, my mother, taught me to love everyone.” Tate stopped and turned to face him.

Logan could see the pain in his eyes. He would have done anything to take that from him, but there wasn’t anything he could do except listen.

“I guess she meant everyone like her.”

Logan took Tate’s face in his hands and leaned in so their noses touched. “I’m sorry they hurt you. That they don’t understand.”

“She didn’t even try to understand.”

Logan stroked a hand over his hair. “Many won’t.”

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

Tate shook his head and kissed him lightly. “No. I’m done pretending I don’t understand what’s going on here. It’s crazy and intense, but Logan, it’s real. Every time I’m near you, I feel alive.” He closed his eyes and whispered, “What they did and what they said...that’s their choice, and you are mine.”

25.

By the end of the week, Tate knew they needed to go home. Logan’s phone had been buzzing for the last two days, and his still held the heavy weight of silence. They both had to return and face reality, no matter how unwelcome it might be.

As Logan zipped his bag, Tate could feel his eyes on him from across the bed they’d shared for the last half of the week.

He was no longer a guest in this house.

In fact, Logan had welcomed him in every room.

“You ready?”

Tate acted as though he had to think about it. “Well, I don’t know. I had so much to pack.”

Logan picked his bag up and threw it at him across the bed. With an oomph, he caught it and slung it over his shoulder.

“Are you ready?”

Logan came around the end of the huge king-sized frame and kissed him. “Never more so.”

“Okay then. Let’s go home.”

Ten minutes on the road and Logan knew that something was on Tate’s mind. Their time away had been incredible. The more he’d let down his walls, the more connected he’d felt with Tate. But as they sat there heading back to the reality that awaited them, his guy was deep in thought.

“Want to talk about it?”

He looked over to see Tate give a half smile.

“About what?”

“Whatever’s on your mind.”

Tate reached across the console and placed a hand on his thigh. Logan covered it and tightened his fingers.

“What is it?”

“I’ve been wondering about something.”

Tate looked so serious Logan swore his heart actually skipped.

“Okay. Then ask.” He concentrated on driving, and when Tate said nothing, he quickly glanced back at him. “Ask, Tate. You’re making me nervous as fuck.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to know. Whatever happened to Chris? Did you see him again?”

That, he hadn’t expected. After the night he’d told Tate what happened between him and Chris, they hadn’t spoken of him again.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I never saw him again. I called for the ambulance that night, and as I walked out the door, he told me he wished he’d never run into me again, and that hit harder than any punch he could have landed. Because it really did mean that everything he’d said to me over the last two years was a fucking lie. He didn’t press charges. I figured he wouldn’t. Otherwise, he’d have to explain who I was. And there were too many questions there that he didn’t want to answer. I did check the hospital the next day to make sure he was okay. They’d released him.”

“God,” Tate whispered.

Logan concentrated on the road and managed, “Yeah.”

There was a short silence before Tate said, “Hey?”

Logan looked at his passenger to see he was turned toward him.

“One more thing.”

What else is left to say?

“What’s that?”

“Do you still need a date to your work function?”

Logan was sure he’d misheard. “What did you say?”

“Your work function. Is the offer still—”

“Yes,” Logan answered before he’d even finished.

Tate chuckled and settled back into the leather seat. “Okay then. Would you please focus on the road? I have this sudden need to see you in a tuxedo.”

Logan’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, and before he let slip the ridiculous grin he wanted to, he pulled it together and told Tate, “I have the sudden urge to peel you out of one.”

“That can definitely be arranged—as long as you promise not to rip it. I only have the one.”

Logan switched lanes and imagined Tate in a tux.

Jesus, I really want to see that.

“A challenge. I do love a good challenge.”

“Yes, I know,” Tate answered. “I found out the hard way.”

Logan laughed at that. “There is so much that could be said right now, but yes, Tate, you were my hardest challenge yet.”

Tate reached across the car and took his hand, bringing his palm over to the zipper of his jeans, proving just how hard he was. “Apparently, I still am.”

Logan could see Tate out of the corner of his eye as he took their exit. He was looking at him and applying a real nice squeeze. Shit.

“What the hell are you trying to do to me?”

Tate shifted closer when they pulled up to a red light and told him, “I’m challenging you. My place is closer. Get us there in one piece and I’ll take you upstairs and do all kinds of things to you with my mouth.”

“Fuck, Tate.”

Logan turned his head and took Tate’s lips in a bruising kiss. He curled his fingers around Tate’s growing erection, and it wasn’t until a horn blasted behind them that he pulled his mouth away. He put his foot on the accelerator and took off down the road.

“Be ready. And remember, you started this.”

Logan felt Tate push against his palm.

“I know. And I plan to finish it—and you—as soon as you get us home.”

Logan was done chatting.

Somewhere between New Buffalo and downtown Chicago, Tate had managed to not only make him achingly hard, he now had Logan shaking he wanted him so badly.

Sitting beside Tate was torture. Add in Tate grinding against his hand and hell yes, Tate was about to see a less-than-civilized lawyer in around ten minutes.

He turned his car down all the correct streets as if he were on autopilot until he finally made a right onto Tate’s. He drove into the parking garage and Tate told him in a voice full of gravel where his parking space was. Since his bike was currently parked over at his house, Logan could use that for the moment.

He slowed the vehicle down to a crawl and then turned the ignition off. He looked over to where Tate had his head resting against the seat with his eyes focused on him.

Goddamn it. The man is insanely gorgeous.

His messy hair was all over the place, but it somehow suited him. One of his curls was brushing against his cheek in the exact spot Logan wanted to kiss. He had a cocky smile on his face, and Logan knew his heart was sunk.

“Tate?” he rasped across the car.

Tate’s eyes locked on his, full of desire.

“Hmm?”

Logan quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and waited for a minute. The silence that stretched between them hummed with the sexual tension inside the car. Or maybe that was the blood rushing from his head to his cock. Then he heard a sigh from Tate, and that was all it took.

Logan lunged across the center console. Taking ahold of Tate’s shirt, he yanked him close and sealed their lips. Christ, it had only been a little over forty minutes, but he hadn’t tasted Tate since this afternoon and he was hungry.

Tate’s lips parted instantly for him, and Logan wasted no time pushing his tongue inside. He groaned deep in his throat, and Logan’s cock pounded in time with his heart as Tate’s hand left his lap and speared through his hair. The erotic sounds inside the car were just a prelude to the act Logan knew would come.

Then Tate pulled away and whispered, “Upstairs. Now.”

An aroused Logan plus an elevator equaled one hell of a ride. As Tate stood with his back against the wall and Logan against his front, he wondered if they would make it to his apartment.

The second the doors had shut, Logan pinned him to the wall and moved a leg between his own. Tate grabbed his ass and pulled him forward, rubbing his body against the hard one in front of him, and when Logan’s lips found his neck, Tate hissed out, “Yes.”

Logan sucked the tender skin there, and Tate jammed his hips forward.

Holy hell, I’m burning up.

“I think you really get off on me marking you.”

Tate couldn’t think to talk, so he ran his fingers through Logan’s hair and brought his mouth back to his own.

When the elevator dinged, they didn’t bother stopping. Hell, at this stage, it was a miracle they weren’t undressed. But when a shocked gasp penetrated Tate’s sex-hazed mind, he pulled his mouth away and looked beyond Logan to the person standing in his hallway.

As his eyes collided with wide green ones, not one word came to mind.

But when Logan turned around and saw Diana, he managed to locate one quite easily.

“Motherfucker.”

Well, Logan had to give the bitch credit. She was the first woman who’d made him thankful that he liked cock.

“Oh my God,” she finally spoke.

Tate stepped around him and raised his arm on the elevator doors, which were shutting. “What are you doing here?” he demanded as Logan moved up behind him.

Diana pulled the strap of her purse up her arm, and Logan noticed a large manila envelope in her hand.

Ahh, divorce papers. Hand-delivered, no less. Maybe she’d been hoping to change Tate’s mind—too late for that.

“Get out of my way, Tate. I came to talk to you. Not to see you and him making out in the elevator.”

Tate stepped into the hall and backed Diana up. “You are at my place,” Tate reminded her in a voice Logan knew well.

They’d had enough arguments that he knew Tate’s warning signs, and this was the calm before the storm. He was also aware that this woman knew Tate just as well, and he fucking hated that.

“And now I wish I were anywhere else.”

“So do I,” Logan muttered, which had Tate looking at him over his shoulder. “What? It’s the fucking truth. She has been nothing but a nightmare ever since I met her. Which was before I met you, I might add.”

He saw Diana peer around Tate’s shoulder and try and glare him to death.

“Is that look supposed to hurt my feelings?” Logan asked.

“Fuck off,” she spat out, and that had Tate turning back to face her.

“Don’t you talk to him like that. He’s welcome here. You are not.”

The satisfaction Logan got from Tate’s words was short-lived as Diana reached out and placed her hand on his arm.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” she said, trying to appeal to Tate’s gentler side, but Logan was fairly certain that side had left the fucking building.

He noticed her eyes kept shifting over Tate’s shoulder, monitoring where he was, and as she started to run that hand up Tate’s arm, Logan decided that it was best to stand still. Otherwise, he might just get close enough to rip her hand off.

“It’s too late to talk, Diana. You gave up that right the second you went to my parents about this.”

“That was when?” she asked incredulously. “Oh come on. Don’t act like he didn’t brainwash you before that.”

Tate put his hand over the one she still had on his arm and brushed it off as if it were an annoyance. “He is Logan. And he didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t want him to.”

Diana’s face had taken on a pinched look, and she had her hands clenched by her sides.

“That’s not true,” she stated in a voice that was barely audible.

Logan watched as Tate took a step away, almost as if he too could feel a storm brewing.

Then Diana exploded. “It’s not true!”

Tate nodded and merely answered, “It is.”

Diana raised her arms, and just as she was about to land her small fists against Tate’s chest, he captured her wrists.

“Think about what you’re doing right now.”

“I hate you. How could you do this to me?”

“To you? What have I done to you? You’re with someone new, and so am I. You destroyed my family. You went and told my mother information she should’ve heard from me.”

Diana struggled and tried to pull free, her fury now grabbing a tight hold of her. “It wouldn’t have made a difference,” she sneered, looking past Tate to him. “The second she knew her precious boy was sucking cock, she would have kicked you out.”

Tate released her arms as if she’d burned him, and Logan bit his tongue hard. He knew now wasn’t the time to say what he really wanted, which was something along the lines of—

“I was about to suck it right now, but you interrupted me.”

Yes, that was it.

“You make me sick.”

“Why? Because I fell in love with a man? You make me sick. Because you’re spiteful, vindictive, and conniving, and you have been for a long time.”

Her mouth clamped shut and she started to shake her head. “Move, Tate. I want to leave.”

“Too bad. I’m not done. You wanted to see me, here’s your chance, because after this, I never want to see your face again.”

Diana’s head snapped up at that, and Logan saw a flash of pain filter in through all the ugly. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes. I do. Week after week, you’ve insisted on going to my family’s house with the sole purpose of making me uncomfortable. You didn’t care that I didn’t want you there. You just cared about yourself as usual.”

“That’s not true—”

“It is true,” Tate thundered. “And I’m done. You were the one who went elsewhere, not me. But I’ve found someone who’s smart, sexy, and makes me incredibly happy.”

While trying to keep a watchful eye on the volatile woman in the hall, Logan was also keeping track of the irregular beat of his heart. Tate kept giving it shock after shock—in the best way imaginable.

“Well, I sure hope he makes you happy enough to fill in all the missing people in your life.”

That was when he finally lost his cool and stepped up beside Tate.

“You vicious little bitch.”

“Logan—” Tate tried, but he wasn’t listening.

“How can you be so callous? To someone you say you loved.”

Diana slapped the manila envelope in her hand against Tate’s chest and pushed past them both to march over to the elevator. She jabbed the down button with her perfectly manicured nail and stood there with her arms crossed, but Logan was far from done.

“His family won’t talk to him because of you. Because you didn’t give him the time or the courtesy to tell them on his own.”

That was when all of the poison and all of the hate oozed to the surface and Diana Cline turned on them both. She pinned him with a look that was so nasty it made his skin crawl.

“Oh, no, Mr. Mitchell. You have it all wrong. It’s not because of me that they won’t talk to him. It’s because of you.”

Logan’s jaw clenched as her words slipped behind his defenses to the part of him that knew she was right, but the other part of him, the part of him he’d honed to keep him safe and protected, would not let her leave without getting in the final blow.

He walked forward just as the elevator dinged and whispered, “And it’s also because of me that you will never have him again.”

Her expression flashed from cruel intent to pitiful regret as she stepped back into the elevator and turned her eyes to Tate.

“I mean it, Diana. Don’t come back here again.”

And before she could respond, the doors slid shut and she was gone.

Logan was quiet. Too quiet in Tate’s opinion.

After Diana left, they made their way down to his apartment and no words were exchanged. They got to his door and Tate unlocked it before pushing it open. He dropped the envelope on the side table, not caring about the contents right this second. He would deal with her in his own damn time. Right now, he wanted to deal with Logan.

Logan stepped past him and Tate followed as they made their way farther inside.

“What’s going on here?”

Logan turned to stare at him, those blue eyes full of...doubt.

Doubt in me? Or himself?

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” Tate said, calling his bluff. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Logan licked his top lip and then shrugged. “She isn’t wrong, you know.”

Tate narrowed his eyes and walked over so they were standing face to face. “She isn’t wrong about what?”

Logan spun away from him, but Tate wasn’t about to have that. He reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back around to face him.

“She isn’t wrong about what, Logan?”

He could feel the tension rolling off Logan in waves, but not like it’d been in the elevator. He was now irritated and apprehensive, and Tate couldn’t tell where it was directed.

Diana? His family? Himself?

“That I’m the reason your family won’t talk to you.”

Tate dropped his hand and took a deep breath then started moving. He took several steps forward until he had Logan’s back up against the wall of his foyer.

“No. You listen to me. They are the reason they won’t talk to me. Not you.”

Logan grimaced. “Tate—”

“Logan. Shut up.” He placed his hands on the wall on either side of his head. “I know I need to deal with them, and I will, but not right now.”

Logan closed his eyes as if trying to block out everything that had happened.

“I’m sorry...I just can’t think about anything else.”

Tate dropped his hands and took a step away. “Fucking Diana—”

“Is enough to ruin any good hard-on. Even mine,” Logan pointed out and kissed his lips. “You have papers to sign, and I need to…”

“What?”

“Punch something?” Logan suggested.

Tate shook his head, frustrated that they’d even had to deal with her. “I’m sorry she was here.”

“So am I. But maybe she was exactly what we needed.”

“How do you figure that?” Tate asked as Logan walked toward the front door.

When he got to it, he looked back and said, “She made us realize what we do and don’t want.”

Tate glanced in Logan’s direction, but he just opened the front door.

“Logan?” Tate waited until Logan stopped and faced him. “I want you. Seeing her doesn’t change that.”

The smile that split Logan’s full lips was worth a million run-ins with Diana, because right there, Tate knew that Logan really believed him.

“I know.”

26.

By midmorning on Sunday, Tate was slowing his bike to a crawl and making his way down his childhood street.

After Logan had left the night before, he’d had a lot of time to think. He’d signed the papers Diana had once again issued through her new lawyer, and then he’d come to the conclusion he needed to try and see his family.

It’d been a week since he’d seen or heard from them and he still couldn’t bring himself to believe that his own parents, the people who’d raised him, had actually...disowned him.

Maybe they’d just been angry.

He swallowed as he stopped by the curb of the house next door. Best not to pull into the drive, just in case they heard.

Fuck. What am I planning? A sneak attack?

Turning off the ignition, Tate removed his helmet and sat there for a few minutes staring at the familiar double-story house. He could remember running around the yard with Jill playing hide-and-seek, and the large tree in the back still had the fort their father had built for them both. Now, the one place that used to be his sanctuary, a place that was full of good memories, just reminded him of last weekend and all of the hateful words that had been spewed at him.

Getting off the bike, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second.

You can do this.

He’d been miserable for years, and now that he was finally happy, it was time to let his parents know that this was his choice—his decision to really be free. This was his life, after all, and if they didn’t understand that, then it was time to say goodbye.

Walking up the drive, he felt the gravel crunch beneath his boots. With every step he took, he felt as if he were walking toward his execution. He kept remembering the revulsion on his mother’s face and the waves of nausea would hit. But he was determined to do this—he needed to.

Turning onto the small path that led to the front steps, Tate stopped when he saw his father crouched down in the garden surrounding the porch. He still hadn’t heard him, so Tate watched as he worked.

As a child, he’d idolized his father. He was the man he’d wanted to be when he grew up. Tall, his father stood around six foot, and for as long as Tate could remember, he’d always been compared to him.

“You get more and more like your father every day. Such a fine young man. And those curls...You’re the spitting image of him, Tate.”

His father had always been proud of that comparison. He’d clap a hand on his shoulder and tell them, “That’s my boy, all right.” Tate wondered if he’d still feel that way now.

As he took a step closer, his feet crunched on the gravel again, this time alerting his father that he was there. Tate watched as he spotted him and slowly stood. Dusting the dirt off his hands, he then stepped out of the garden bed he’d been working in.

“Hey, Dad.”

“William.” His voice was steady and detached, and Tate could feel his palms grow clammy at the way he was looking at him, inspecting him as if he were somehow...different.

“I wanted to come by—”

“Why?” his father interrupted, which had Tate stumbling over his words. “Has anything changed?”

Tate knew what he was really asking. Have you realized you were wrong? But he wasn’t there to apologize for his choices.

“No. Nothing has changed.”

His father gave a decisive nod and then gazed off beyond his shoulder. “Then I’m not sure why you’re here.”

Tate flinched as if his father had struck him and then took a step forward. “Really? You don’t know why I’m here? This is my home, Dad.”

His father continued to ignore him, and the indifference infuriated him.

“Look at me,” Tate demanded, and his father turned steady eyes on him—his own eyes. “You’re willing to let me go, never hear from me again, just like that? Because of who I’m dating?”

“You’re dating a man, William. What did you expect? It goes against everything we believe.”

Tate balled his fists by his sides and tried his hardest to remain calm in spite of the turmoil brewing inside of him. “I was taught to love my fellow man. Guess I just took it a step further.”

His father’s eyes focused on him intently, and the repugnance made Tate wonder where his actual father was. Just like last week with his mother, the person in front of him was a complete stranger. They’d both mutated into vile, disapproving creatures.

“Your lack of subtlety just proves what a bad influence this man has been on you. Your behavior last week was unforgivable. You were rude, inappropriate, and impudent.”

Tate shook his head, disbelieving of what he was hearing. “I was rude and inappropriate? You’re kicking me out of your lives because of who I love.”

His father’s entire body tensed at his final word, and he looked him over slowly, as if he were seeing him for the first time. Then he told him in a voice Tate didn’t even recognize, “This conversation is over. Your mother was very clear last week. You’re no longer welcome here.”

The shock and the heartache was gone. Tate could feel his rage threatening to overwhelm him. He was now full of anger.

Anger at such rejection from his own flesh and blood.

“If I leave, I’m not coming back,” he stated, surprised his voice was stable when he felt like his insides were crumbling apart. “I’ve tried to talk to you, to make you understand, but I’m an adult. I’m going to do what makes me happy, and if that means no longer being your son, then so be it.”

Tate turned away and was about to leave when he heard his father’s final words.

“You’re no longer my son anyway.”

Tate was determined not to let his foot falter after that blow, and without turning back, he made his way along the path of what was once his home—his safe place.

He made it down the drive and heard his name as he climbed on his bike. He looked up to the porch and saw that his father had gone inside, but Jill was standing there. She was too late.

It was time to move on, time to go to his new safe place.

It was time to go to Logan’s.

Logan stood in the center of his living room and realized for the first time how large and empty the space was without the coffee table.

Maybe it’s time to fill it with things other than my furniture.

Last night, when he’d gotten home, he’d crawled into bed and lain there, wide awake. He’d been replaying the past few weeks over and over in his mind. His family, Diana, Tate’s family, Tate disappearing for a week, and then their time away.

It felt like it had been years instead of weeks, but it had made them both more than aware of what was important, what they each wanted, and Logan was just as shocked as Tate that it was bordering on that word he usually avoided—relationship.

He’d been cleaning up his place for the last few hours, ever since Tate had called to tell him he was on his way to his parents’ place. That thought made him feel ill.

The last time Tate had dealt with his parents was a disaster. Logan couldn’t even imagine how it would go this time, and he had to admit the fact that he wasn’t there made him slightly nervous.

What if they get to him? Will he change his mind?

No. Logan had to believe that what they shared was stronger than that, and he knew Tate. Tate was honest to the core, and there was no way he would have lied about his feelings—not after everything they’d gone through.

He’d just finished throwing the last of the broken glass away and was ready to sit down with a beer when the knocking on his front door began. After placing the bottle on the counter, he walked down the hall and opened it.

There, standing in front of him, was a dejected-looking Tate. He was staring back at him, and his eyes were those of someone who was grieving a loss.

“Come in.”

Logan stepped aside, and as Tate went to walk past, he took his fingers. Tate turned to him, and Logan didn’t ask. He knew he wasn’t okay.

“Why don’t you take your jacket off and have a seat. I was just about to grab a beer and watch some TV.”

Tate nodded and moved into the living room.

It hadn’t been that long ago that Tate had first walked into his condo, and now, as he removed his jacket and shoes and sat on the far corner of the sofa, Logan realized he looked right at home there.

He went into the kitchen and grabbed a second beer for Tate before making his way to the seat beside him. When he was settled, he placed his arm along the back of the couch. Automatically, Tate moved in and leaned against his side.

“Didn’t go so good, huh?”

Tate didn’t say anything, just shook his head.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Tate looked up at him and gave a smile so sad that it broke Logan’s heart.

“There’s nothing left to say. They both said their piece, and I said mine. It’s done. Over.”

Logan frowned down at him. “Is it?”

“Yes, it is. But it still hurts like hell.”

Logan went to put the bottle on his coffee table. Then he remembered that he didn’t have one and placed it by his feet.

“You really did break the thing,” Tate murmured.

“Yeah. Bad temper I suppose.”

Tate reached up to touch his chin. “No. I hurt you.”

“Nah.”

“Yes,” Tate said again and sat up to place a soft kiss on his mouth. “I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me. You needed space. We worked it out in our own ways and found our way back, didn’t we?”

Tate grinned at him, and every worry Logan had vanished under the power of it.

“Sometimes you’re very sweet, Logan Mitchell.”

Logan ran a hand down Tate’s cheek and cupped his chin. “Shh. No one can ever know.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul.”

“You better not. My reputation’s already compromised.”

Tate took the hand on his cheek and entwined their fingers. “It is?”

“You mean you haven’t heard?”

Shaking his head, Tate looked up at him, and Logan winked.

“Yeah. Apparently, I tried something a little while back, and now, I just can’t seem to get enough. I’ve become…addicted.”

Tate chuckled and rolled to his side so he was lying stretched out along the couch with his head on Logan’s thigh, watching him. “That sounds terrible.”

“It is. People are talking…”

“I’m sure they are.”

“Complaining that I’m no longer available for…debriefings.”

Tate totally lost it then and started laughing.

“This is serious stuff,” Logan told him, face somber, mouth pulled tight. He was having trouble not laughing himself. “I don’t think you should be laughing about it.”

“Then what should I be doing? You want me to be upset that you’re no longer out sleeping with half of Chicago?”

“I’ll have you know...”

The sides of Tate’s eyes crinkled as he asked, “Yes?”

Logan lowered his head and captured Tate’s mouth in a kiss then told him, “It was only some of Chicago. And maybe a few outside of it. I told you. I’m selective.”

“And now?” Tate asked.

“Now I’m really fucking selective. As in, there’s only one choice, one option, and one person I even think about.”

“Oh yeah?”

Logan nodded. “Yeah. Ever since he served me a gin and tonic and told me he was straight.”

Tate pretended to be shocked. “He told you he was straight and you went after him anyway?”

“Mhmm. He was adamant.” He kissed Tate again. “Told me there was no way in hell he’d ever kiss me.”

“But you changed his mind, huh?”

“Of course,” he said, full of arrogance. “I argue for a living. He stood no chance.”

Tate’s mouth moved under his in a grin. “You weren’t doing much talking the day you pushed your agenda in the conference room.”

“Well, sometimes you have to prove a point with physical evidence.”

Tate put his hands on Logan’s shoulders and pushed him away slightly. “Oh is that what that was?”

“Yes, and I find that a lot of oral presentations are helpful also.”

Tate shook his head from side to side, still smiling. “You’re something else, you know that? Thank you.”

“For?”

“Always making it better,” Tate laughed.

“Pretty sure I usually suck at this part in relationships.”

Tate sat up this time and straddled his lap.

“I’m pretty sure you don’t. But you’re good at sucking in other parts.” Tate ran his hands over his shoulders and then said, “I want to do something fun. Something that’ll make us forget these last two shitty days.” He paused, closed his eyes, and whispered, “I want to lose myself for a while.”

Logan thought about it for a moment and then asked, “How about Whipped?”

Tate’s eyes opened and he looked slightly shocked. “I know I’ve been up for a lot lately, and yeah, I’ll try most things—”

“Tate?” Logan laughed.

“Yeah?”

“It’s a nightclub. But please feel free to finish that thought. You say you’ll try most things?”

“Asshole,” Tate mumbled.

“You say the nicest things to me.” Logan winked. “Let’s go dancing.”

The music was thumping, the club dimly lit, and as Logan made his way through couples gyrating, he felt Tate’s fingers tightening around his. He’d picked a place he knew fairly well, Whipped.

It was a place where there was a little bit of everything, including men dancing with women, women dancing with women, and—he stopped on the corner of the dance floor and pulled Tate into his body—men dancing with men.

He’d figured Tate would be a little more comfortable around a mix of people, and as his arms came around his neck and he closed his eyes, Logan knew he’d been right until—

“Ah, my favorite lawyer and his ‘friend.’ I swear you two get hotter every time I see you. So it’s a damn shame I don’t see more of you.”

Tate froze in front of him, and Logan closed his eyes, hoping that the voice that just shouted over the music wasn’t—

“Robbie,” Tate answered for him as he greeted the intruder.

Logan turned around to see Robbie step closer to them both.

“I thought it was you. It’s hard to ignore someone like Logan. Or you for that matter,” he added, winking at Tate.

Fucking flirt.

“In fact, I think I saw you smile at Logan when you walked in. Granted, I could be wrong since it’s such a rare event, but when it appeared, it was fabulous.”

Logan turned to Tate, and instead of finding him fuming, he was grinning down at Robbie—amused. He then looked back to see Robbie’s eyes close to fucking sparkling up at Tate, and he couldn’t help but shake his head at the guy’s antics.

As usual, Robbie was dressed much the same as he had been the night they’d hooked up. Loose, black cargos that rode his skinny hips, and a bright-pink mesh tank top that was cut to expose from his navel down. His eyes were enhanced by black eyeliner, and his blond hair was spiked with enough hair gel that not even the busiest hands in it would mess it up.

He was cute and knew it. There was a time that had really worked for him, but when Logan felt Tate’s body brush the side of his, he knew that time had long passed.

Tate, in his leather pants, tight, white T-shirt, and the leather jacket he’d checked at the door, was the guy who could give as much as he dished out, and Logan hadn’t realized how much he craved that until now.

“Did you know this is where I met Logan? And we danced the night away,” Robbie reminisced over the music.

“Really,” Tate responded, secure enough that he didn’t make it a question. It was more like a perfunctory answer, and with his arm looped around Logan’s waist, it was obvious he was in no way threatened by Robbie.

And fuck me, that’s hot.

“It was one dance and then we left. Let’s not get carried away, Cinderella. It wasn’t your ball,” Logan interjected.

“No,” Robbie agreed, grinning like an imp, “it was yours. Both of them. That was a good night.”

Logan groaned and Tate’s body vibrated with laughter.

“What was a good night?”

Both he and Tate looked over Robbie’s shoulder to the man who’d stopped behind him. He was a tall, muscular guy in jeans and a white button-down. He was familiar, but Logan couldn’t quite place him. The man seemed to exude carefree and relaxed with the longer blond hair that was pushed behind his ears and hit the collar of his shirt, but the shrewd eyes and serious line of his mouth screamed of confidence and control.

“The night I met Logan,” Robbie stated, gesturing in his direction before adding an introduction. “This is Daniel.”

The man’s eyes found both him and Tate, and as he sized them up, Logan caught a flash of heat...and interest.

“Yes, I can see that would be a night worth remembering. And you?” Daniel asked as his eyes shifted to Tate. “What’s your name?”

For the first time since he’d met Tate, Logan felt the intense need to make it known who he belonged to and wrapped a proprietary arm around his waist.

“Tate.”

“So, Logan and Tate. Nice. Very nice. Evening, boys.”

His voice was smooth like whiskey, and Logan felt Tate shift beside him and knew he was feeling the same sexual appraisal from the man.

“Hey,” Logan responded. Then he turned his eyes to Robbie, who was looking between him and Daniel.

“I noticed you both as soon as you came in, and Robbie said he knew you.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed on the blond, and then he focused once again on the man who seemed to be wanting something. Two somethings to be exact.

“Did he now?”

“Yes,” Daniel answered, eyes locked with his in a stalemate. “He did.”

Tate’s fingers were now stroking over his ass, and Logan had to really hold back a laugh at the fact that he didn’t seem bothered at all that the guy in front of them was eye-fucking them both.

“Are you two free later?”

Logan was about to answer when Tate finally decided to speak up, and as always, he didn’t disappoint.

“No, we aren’t. We don’t play well with others.”

Logan turned to look him in the eye and the expression in Tate’s was, ‘But I’m going to play with you.’

“I told you,” Robbie stated, and Daniel gave them both a smug smile and tilt of the head as he wrapped an arm around Robbie’s shoulder.

“So you did.”

Robbie leaned into Daniel’s side before giving him a thorough once over and Tate, a full-on cheeky grin. “What? Can’t blame a guy for trying. You two—”

“Aren’t interested,” Logan ended for him. “But you have fun tonight.”

Robbie looked over at Tate and then back to him before grumbling, “You too.”

Logan felt Tate’s hand squeeze his ass, and before he could speak, Tate did. “Oh he will.”

Then Tate stepped in front of him and wound his arms around his neck, making it more than obvious he was done with the conversation, done with the intrusion, and ready to dance to the heavy throb of the pulsating music.

Logan placed his hands on Tate’s back and ran them up to his shoulder blades, and he couldn’t help putting his mouth on him.

Love that I can do this, he thought, punctuating it with a kiss to his neck. Love that you’re here, with me.

Tate’s head lolled to the side, and when the salty sweat on his smooth skin hit Logan’s tongue, it was hard to remind himself they were in public.

Tate widened his legs, and Logan pressed one of his between his thighs. He could feel Tate’s fingers twisting through the back of his hair as their hips rocked against each other, and the thought of concentrating on anyone or anything other than running his hands all over Tate’s body left his mind.

He dragged his fingers back down Tate’s spine to the leather pants covering his ass. He loved the feel of them, and when Tate’s mouth found his ear and he said, “Harder,” Logan’s cock stiffened as if he’d physically stroked him.

Logan shut his eyes, and when Tate’s lips moved over his ear, he dug his fingers in. Tate’s hips thrust forward like he was inside him. Then he hissed, “Yes,” and Logan groaned.

Jesus. I’ll be lucky if I make it home without attacking him.

Tate was writhing against his leg and body as if they were already somewhere dark and private, which made Logan want...

He brought his mouth to Tate’s ear and whispered, “Turn around.”

Tate took a small step back and, without question, turned. Logan didn’t wait a second before he plastered himself against the sexy length of his body. He placed his splayed hands on Tate’s hips and pulled him back until his ass was cradling his aching cock.

“Fuck yes,” Logan growled, gyrating against the rounded curves filling out Tate’s leather. “I don’t blame him for wanting you, but he can’t fucking have you.”

Tate raised his arms to loop them behind his neck and looked over his shoulder with sex-hazed eyes. “He wanted you too, but—”

“We don’t fucking share,” Logan ended and then thought, One night—and soon—I’m going to fuck him just like this. Naked and in front of a mirror, so I can see every goddamn inch of him.

Tate totally surrendered to Logan and the music as it pounded out a seductive rhythm. Logan’s mouth was by his ear and Tate could hear his heavy breathing as he moved against him—living out the fantasy he’d had the last time he’d been in a club.

He could feel Logan’s hands holding him in place as he bumped his erection against the crack of his ass. Tate wished like hell they were alone, but they were in the corner of a room full of strangers who were also busy bumping and grinding.

He closed his eyes when one of Logan’s hands slid farther around his front and—ahh yeah—flattened against his hard-on. Then he turned his head and Logan’s lips were on his.

“Open your mouth.”

Tate’s lips parted immediately and Logan dove inside to taste. Tate sucked eagerly on Logan’s tongue as his hand curled around the leather covering his cock.

Being kissed by Logan was like an out-of-body experience. It felt as if every part of his body were being stimulated at once, and as he continued to stroke his aching sex, Tate figured he was close to right.

He wanted to be alone with him, and he wanted it now.

Tate turned and brushed a kiss against Logan’s cheek. “Take me somewhere. Just you and me.”

Quicker than Tate thought possible, Logan took him by the hand and directed him past the bar and into a hall that had several different doors and alcoves. Without a word, Logan pulled him into one of the dark side nooks and had his back up against the wall.

“Will this do?”

Tate licked his lips as Logan planted his hands by his head. “Yes. I wanted—”

His words were cut off when Logan lowered a hand and stroked his fingers up his rigid cock. “What do you want?”

Tate’s head rested back on the wall as he moved against the hand massaging him through his pants. He’d thought he wanted Logan to run the show tonight, but now he found himself saying, “You.”

Tate pushed off the wall and muscled Logan back until he was the one against it. Then he took Logan’s mouth in an explosive kiss.

Tongues, hands, and sweat all combined together as he started grinding against Logan’s body, and he accomplished what he’d set out to—he forgot everything except for the man against him.

“I need you,” he panted against Logan’s lips. “I’ve never needed you more. Let’s go home.

27.

They only just made it inside the door to his condo when Logan found himself turned to face the wall. He barely had a chance to brace himself before Tate was crushed up against his back.

Tate rubbed his erection against his ass, and Logan grunted as he closed his eyes and rested his cheek against the cool wall.

“I had this fantasy about dancing with you that night you found me at HAZE.”

Tate’s hand snaked around his hips to the front of his pants, and Logan bucked his hips against the fingers kneading him.

“And how was the reality?”

He felt Tate’s lips on his neck as he placed kisses along it.

“Fucking incredible. I’ve never been big on dancing, but Jesus, the way you do it is like having sex on my feet. Which made me think—”

Logan turned, and Tate’s lips found his. He kissed him hard, and when he pulled away, his mouth tipped into a suggestive smile.

“What would it be like to have sex with you, on your feet, just like this? Eyes forward. Hands on the wall, Logan.”

Logan’s cock hardened at the instruction, and he brought his hands up to place his palms on the wall and angled the lower half of his body out slightly.

“Like this, you say?”

Tate’s body left his, and Logan felt a hand run down his back.

“Exactly like that.”

He could hear movement behind him and tried to get control of himself, to do as he’d been told, but he was so fucking excited that he could barely stand the suspense.

“I was just taking my clothes off. Making myself more at home. You don’t mind, do you?”

Logan grit his teeth and then felt Tate’s hands on his hips.

“That’s what you told me the first time I ever came here. ‘Take off all your fucking clothes if it makes you more comfortable.’ And tonight”—Logan closed his eyes as Tate’s lips brushed his ear—“it does.”

“You’re such a damn tease,” he rasped.

Tate moved his hands around his waist and unbuttoned the top of his pants. “I’m not teasing, and you want this, don’t you? Right here against the wall, with your pants around your ankles.”

“Yes,” he hissed, and his hips thrust back towards Tate.

“I thought so.”

Logan sucked in a breath when Tate’s hand unzipped his pants and shoved them to his feet. He went to move out of them and got one foot free when Tate opened his mouth and stopped him.

“Leave them there. The thought of seeing your clothes half on while I slide my cock inside you is hot as hell. Like you didn’t give a fuck about getting them off, and I couldn’t wait to have you.”

Then he was against him, and Tate’s naked cock was nestled between his ass cheeks.

“And Logan? I can’t fucking wait to have you.”

Tate stared at the white shirt covering Logan’s back and pushed it up with his hands until it was scrunched above his shoulder blades. Logan’s arms were stretched out, bracing himself against the wall, and the muscles in his back were tense as he stood there—hips and ass pointed in his direction.

Tate bent his knees slightly, dragged his cock through Logan’s tight cheeks, and closed his eyes for a second. He was practically vibrating with his own energy, a mix of arousal and power, and he needed to get ahold of himself.

He brought two of his fingers to his mouth and sucked them between his lips, making sure he was loud enough that Logan heard the sound in the quiet condominium. He knew it had reached him when a throaty moan left the man in front of him and Logan pushed back against him.

Pulling his fingers free, Tate taunted him, “You want that, huh?”

“Fuck you, Tate.”

Tate used all of his strength and pushed against Logan until his arms gave way and he had him back with his cheek against the wall.

“Actually, I’m gonna fuck you if you don’t mind.”

Logan tried to move against him, but Tate was determined and held him in place.

“You sure about that? All I hear is a lot of talk.”

Tate chuckled in his ear and brought his wet finger down to the line of Logan’s ass. With unerring accuracy, he found his hole. Logan’s ass cheeks tensed, and Tate bit his ear.

“I’m sure. And you’re gonna love every fucking second.”

He felt Logan’s entire body tremble against him.

“Want it hard, Logan? Or want me to—”

“Hard.”

Tate felt a thrill race up his spine as he pushed his finger inside Logan with no more warning.

“Christ,” Logan hissed, and Tate rubbed his dripping cock over Logan’s rounded ass cheek.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

“So are you,” Logan told him, his voice ragged.

“Only you would know,” Tate murmured and pulled his finger out.

“I love that you let me in—all of you.”

He could hear Logan’s breathing get faster as he told him, “Don’t move.”

Then he disappeared out of sight.

Like he was going any-fucking-where.

Logan watched out of the corner of his eye as Tate disappeared from sight, and when he felt two hands on his ass pulling him apart, he couldn’t believe what was about to happen.

He closed his eyes when he felt first Tate’s hair on the skin of his cheek, then his nose, right before—hell fucking yes—a warm, wet tongue moving across his eager hole. Logan grunted and pushed his hips back, and Tate dug his fingers in and once again widened him to lap at the shadowy cleft with the tip of his tongue.

Tate had played around with him a couple of times when it came to rimming. A few quick flicks of his tongue here and there, but right now, as he knelt behind him and spread him apart, Tate was not playing around.

When the tip of his tongue entered him, Logan had to reach down and clench a tight fist around his cock. He was so close to coming from the feel of Tate’s tongue in his ass, but he knew there was more to come, so there was no way he was going to ruin that by exploding all over the wall early.

Tate’s mouth left him, and a low cry escaped him until the fingers from earlier were back and sliding inside him.

“Ahh.”

A low fucking growl came out of Tate and just about had him begging until strong teeth found his ass cheek and were sinking in. Logan tried to catch his breath, but it was coming in rapid pants now as Tate soothed the bite with kisses and scissored his fingers inside of him. Tate had been paying attention, and hell if that didn’t turn him on even more.

When that dexterous tongue tickled the top of his crack, Logan reached back with one hand and held himself open for him.

There is that fucking sound again.

It was somewhere between a hum and a groan, and coming from Tate, it was sexy as hell. It sounded like he was about to attack at any moment, and he did. His mouth moved closer, and as he pulled his fingers free, he leaned forward and tongued the spot before he pushed them back inside.

Logan felt his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Now, Tate. Now.”

Fingers and tongue left his body, and as he stood there with one arm braced against the wall, the other wrapped firmly around the base of his cock. He heard some tearing sounds and a bottle and knew Tate was rolling on the condom and lubing up.

He counted back from fifty, trying to get ahold of himself. Then Tate was behind him and the head of his cock was pushing for entry. Again, he felt Tate push his shirt up to his shoulders, and then warm lips touched the top of his spine as his voice filled the air.

“You’re unbelievably sexy, and I’m so fucking lucky to be the one who has you.”

Before Logan could respond, Tate drove his cock inside him in one hard thrust.

The sound that left Logan as he penetrated him made Tate crazy.

It was a hoarse cry of fulfillment, and as Tate stilled inside him, he felt one of Logan’s hands come down to grab the side of his thigh. He let go of Logan’s shirt and gripped his shoulder, pulling him up straight and pushing even deeper.

“Yeah…Tate. Damn.”

Tate could feel the back of Logan’s thighs against the front of his own, and his ass was now firmly seated against his groin. Wrapping an arm around Logan’s neck, he kissed his ear and whispered, “You like that?”

He didn’t wait for an answer as Logan’s fingers gripped his thigh harder. He just pulled slowly out and then powered home again.

Logan’s head fell back onto his shoulder, and he reached down to grip his cock. Tate kissed the side of his neck and smiled against the curve where it met his shoulder, exactly where his work shirt would cover. Then he started to suck.

He felt Logan’s hips begin to move and pull off his cock, and when he slammed back, taking him inside again, Tate held his hips and let him go.

Oh hell yes. Fuck yourself on me while I leave my mark.

He stumbled slightly from the strength of Logan’s thrusts, and suddenly Tate had a thought. “Stop.”

Instantly, Logan’s entire body froze.

Tate slowly pulled free of him and moved to the opposite wall. When Logan looked over his shoulder, Tate raised an arm and crooked a finger. He smirked as Logan kicked the pants off his ankle and walked across the space.

When he stopped in front of him, Tate instructed, “Turn around.”

Logan narrowed his eyes at the bossy command but did it anyway. Without waiting, Tate grabbed his hips and pulled him back.

“Now you can fuck my cock like you can’t get enough and I won’t fall over.”

“Your mouth is filthy tonight.”

Tate penetrated him with one smooth thrust and bit his shoulder. “Yes it is, and you fucking love it.”

“God, that’s the truth.”

Tate splayed his hands on either side of Logan’s hips and rocked forward off the wall.

“Yes…”

“So come on, Logan. Use me to get off.”

Logan braced his legs and twisted his upper body to put a hand on the wall behind Tate.

Tate had a firm hold on his hips and was pistoning his cock in and out of him with more speed now that he had the support of the wall behind him. His brown eyes were locked on him, and every time he bottomed out, he grunted in a way that made Logan want to come.

Logan raised his hand and spat in it so he could madly continue stroking his cock as he fucked himself on Tate’s stiff erection.

“Jesus.”

Nothing felt as good as when Tate took him over. It was like he always knew what he needed, and right now, he needed hard and brain numbing.

He had to turn away from the gorgeous face staring back at him because it was all becoming too much, and when Tate’s lips landed on his back and his hand came around to help him stroke his cock, Logan shut his eyes and shouted out his name.

The climax raced down and grabbed a tight hold of his balls as he came in a fury. But Tate wasn’t done with him, and as he rubbed their sticky hands together, he pulled out of him, turned him around, and slammed his back up against the wall.

“Fuck, Logan,” he growled in that same voice from earlier. “Get on your knees and take your shirt off. I want to look at you when I come.”

No problem, he thought and took off his shirt while Tate removed the condom. He was having trouble staying on his feet anyway, and as Tate started masturbating with a slick handful of his come, Logan watched mesmerized.

He had his head tipped forward, looking down at him where he knelt naked at his feet, and the veins of his neck were corded. Tate’s entire body flexed and tensed with every thrust and fuck of his hips as he feverishly worked his cock.

“Oh hell yes. Come on, Tate.”

Tate widened his stance, reached forward with his free hand, and grabbed a handful of his hair, tilting his head back. But it wasn’t until Logan lifted a hand and touched his fingers to Tate’s balls that a shout tore out of him and he came magnificently all over Logan’s chest and neck.

“Ahh, fucking hell,” Tate cursed, and as his hand loosened in his hair, Logan reached up and ran his finger through the sticky liquid that had hit his nipple.

He looked right at Tate as he brought his finger to his mouth and sucked it inside.

Tate gave a throaty laugh and slid down the wall opposite him.

“Not so sweet after all,” Logan commented with a wink.

“No?”

Logan shook his head. “There’s a hint of sweet with a full helping of stubborn and dirty as fuck.”

Tate raised a brow as if to say, ‘And?’

“In other words, just right.”

28.

Logan got to work early Monday morning, and as he was drinking his coffee at his desk, he started thinking back to last night.

After the incredibly intense coupling in his hall, they’d crawled into bed and Tate had placed his head on his shoulder and fallen asleep. He’d been tired, no doubt exhausted from the week before. Logan wondered if Tate would ever be as carefree as he had been before all of this with his family.

He’d grown up with a somewhat flaky mother, and his father hadn’t even cared to have him around in the first place, no matter whom he liked—girls or boys.

Tate was the opposite.

He’d grown up with a family that loved him, a sister who’d probably idolized him, and they’d all gone to church and had family lunches on Sundays.

Now, that was no longer an option. They’d disowned him.

Cut him off and pushed him aside because of me.

A knock on his door disrupted him, and when he looked up, he saw Cole stick his head in.

“Can I come in?”

Logan sat back in his seat. “Since when have you ever asked?”

Cole didn’t bother with an answer. He just opened the door and wandered inside. After making his way over to the chair opposite Logan’s desk, he took a seat.

“So how’d the trip go?”

“What? No small talk?”

“I’m sorry, are we on a date?”

Logan rolled his eyes and rubbed his fingers across his lips. “The trip went well. Very well.” He paused for a moment and then smiled. “But unlike you and Rachel, we didn’t come back married.”

The droll look Cole gave him made Logan chuckle.

“You’re here early.”

“So are you,” he pointed out, and Cole agreed.

“Yeah. I need to take Rachel to her doctor’s appointment this afternoon, so I shuffled a few things around.”

“Ahh, I see. And how is the mother-to-be?”

“Incredibly…sexy.”

Not really what he’d expected.

“Sexy?”

“Yes. Rachel’s always been, well...”

“I remember,” Logan supplied when it seemed Cole was stuck in his head fantasizing. “I caught you on your desk once upon a time. Or have you forgotten?”

“No. You were a pain in the ass that day—as usual. But ever since she’s been pregnant, it’s like her sex drive has gone off the fucking charts.”

Logan started laughing at the incredulous look on Cole’s face. “And that’s a problem?”

“Fuck no,” Cole assured him, and Logan waited. “But I’m worried about hurting her. She’s so small and wants it so—” Cole cut himself off, seeming to realize what he’d been about to say. His brother was not the type to discuss his extracurricular activities.

“Rachel’s not the kind to keep something like that to herself. If it hurt, she’d tell you to stop.”

“I know. You’re right. I just worry about her and the baby.”

“I can’t even imagine,” Logan said as he leaned forward and put his arms on the desk.

Cole nodded. “Yeah. It’s a whole new level, you know?”

There was a short stretch of silence, and then Logan gave him a smart-ass smirk. “Not really.”

The comment was enough to break the tension and had Cole chuckling.

Logan then picked up the papers in front of him. “I came in early to look over the guest list for Friday’s dinner. These last two business clients—they’re new.”

Cole stood and took the list off him. “Ahh yes. They were last-minute additions.”

Logan opened his laptop and powered it up. “Okay. I’m gonna check it out so I know who to charm, and then we should be good to go.” Cole turned to leave, and just before he got through the door, Logan called out, “I’ll have a plus-one for Friday night.”

Cole glanced over his shoulder and gave him a smug look. “I know. I already told Jane. Tell Tate that Rachel can’t wait to see him.”

Logan sighed and then felt a grin tug his lips as his brother shut the door. “Presumptuous bastard.”

He lowered his eyes to the computer screen in front of him and typed in: LPCW Architecture. He waited for the screen to pull up, and when it did, he saw a beautiful webpage. It was set up to show some of the buildings the company had restored and designed in and around downtown Chicago.

This would be good for us. An important client to add to the firm.

Logan scrolled along the bar at the top and searched the drop-down menus for the owners. When he found it, he clicked and waited. Then the photos started to appear.

AIA/LEED AP PARTNER - Lance Powell and his image.

The guy was attractive enough. He was in his mid-forties with dark hair and eyes, but nothing remarkable that stood out. He appeared all business, and Logan did like that. The shrewd eyes of someone who liked to make money and keep it.

He then scrolled to the second image and felt his mouth fall open. There, looking back at him, was AIA/LEED AP PARTNER - Christopher Walker.

Oh shit.

Logan’s heart started hammering in his chest as the blond-haired guy with the blue eyes and charming smile continued to stare right at him. After dredging up his past with Tate, Logan suddenly felt as though karma were coming around to fuck with him somehow.

But for what?

Focusing on the image again, he quickly picked up his phone and dialed his PA.

“Sherry?” he barked out.

“Well, it’s lovely to have you back,” she replied with a voice so full of sarcasm that Logan winced. “Good morning to you too, Mr. Mitchell.”

Hell. He was so fucking psyched out he hadn’t even realized it had just turned eight a.m.

Fully chastised, Logan apologized. “I’m sorry. Good morning.”

“Good morning. Now, is there something I can do for you?”

Logan once again returned his attention to the screen and asked, “Can you pull up the names of the guests who RSVP’d to the function this Friday?”

“I thought Mr. Madison put a list on your desk this morning.”

“Yes. He gave me a list of the companies, but not the actual names. I wanted to see who was attending from LPCW Architecture.”

He heard some papers being shuffled around and then Sherry’s voice came back over the line.

“Okay, it says Mr. Lance Powell plus one and”—Logan closed his eyes and held his breath, thinking, Please no, please no, please—“Mr. Christopher Walker plus one.”

“Fuck.”

The line went silent, and then Sherry coughed as if clearing her throat. That was when Logan realized he’d said it out loud.

“Sorry.”

“Not a problem, Mr. Mitchell. Will there be anything else?”

Just a gun so I can shoot myself.

“No, Sherry. That’ll be all.”

Logan hung up the phone and glared at it. Then he looked back at the screen. He could feel his hands shaking as his mind raced at a million miles an hour.

How can this be happening right now?

He stood up and turned away from the glaring reminder of his past. It was like some twisted fucking joke. Just when he’d confessed his worse nightmare, it came back to haunt him. He rubbed his fingers against his forehead.

How the fuck was he going to tell Tate?

“Oh, by the way, remember Chris? Yeah, he’s going to be at the work function. You know, the one where I’m supposed to introduce you to everyone as my partner.”

Logan kicked his foot against the wall and then cursed at the pain that shot up his leg.

Goddamn it. Yeah, break your foot, moron.

He pulled out his cell and pressed it to his chest, thinking about every possible scenario. There was no way he couldn’t tell Tate, and the thought of telling him terrified him.

They’d just gotten to a good place—and now this.

Bringing his phone up, he hit Tate’s number and placed a hand on the metal divider of the windows, waiting for him to answer.

Logan almost wished for a moment that he’d get Tate’s voicemail, but then what the fuck would he say?

“Mornin’.”

Logan closed his eyes and pictured Tate exactly how he’d left him—lying on his back, the sheet down by his hips, and one leg out over the top. He’d noticed that about Tate. It was almost as if he couldn’t decide if he were hot or cold, so he always gave himself the option.

That made him smile.

“You sound half-asleep.”

“It’s only eight a.m. Not everyone has a nine-to-five job, you know.” Tate’s voice was teasing and relaxed, and Logan hated that he would be the one to make that change.

“Have you worked a nine-to-five before?”

“Nope. Probably never will either. I like playing at night.”

Logan heard the invitation in Tate’s voice, and he wanted to take it, but—

“Hey? I need to talk to you about something today. Do you think you’d be able to meet me for lunch?” Logan closed his eyes and tried to get his heart to slow the fuck down.

“Logan?”

He heard the sheets rustle and knew Tate had just sat up.

“Yeah?”

“What’s going on?”

Logan heard the confusion in Tate’s voice and knew he wanted to be there to gauge his reaction when he told him this.

“I’d rather talk in person.”

“Oh sure, ‘cause that’s not gonna freak me out all morning.”

Logan knew he was saying this all wrong. He was never any good at getting the right words out when it came to Tate.

“No. It has nothing to do with you.”

The line went silent and all Logan could hear at the other end was Tate’s breathing.

“Nothing to do with me? So what does it have to do with, Logan? You?”

Logan winced at Tate’s tone. He was pissed, and Logan couldn’t really blame him.

“Yes. This is to do with me.” Suddenly, he realized how that sounded and added, “To do with us.”

“Logan, what the fuck is going on? It’s only been a couple of hours since you left.”

He turned around and stared at the computer screen that still had Chris’s photograph centered and tried to reassure Tate. “It’s not us. It’s just something that happened here at work. And I’d like to talk to you in person about it.”

He heard Tate sigh and could actually see him in his mind running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Okay. Where do you want me to meet you?”

Logan thought about it for a second then suggested, “The Daily Grind?”

“Fine. What time?”

Yeah. Tate was good and pissed. Logan checked his watch.

“How about noon?”

“Fine.”

The one-word answer was as telling as the tone.

“Tate?”

“What?”

“I can’t wait to see you.”

Logan waited as his heart thumped in his chest. Then he heard Tate reply, “Me too.”

And he breathed a little easier.

Tate arrived at the coffee shop a little earlier than they’d agreed on and found a booth in the back corner.

He’d been a mess all fucking morning.

After Logan hung up, there’d been no way he could get back to sleep, and he’d just lain there and run through everything that had happened the night before.

Did I do something to upset him? Offend him?

No, he didn’t think so. They’d gone dancing, and when they’d gotten home...he knew he hadn’t offended Logan then.

Maybe the stress of his family had finally gotten to Logan.

Fuck him for being so damn evasive. I’m driving myself crazy.

Tate watched the front door. When it opened and Logan stepped inside, he felt his heart skip. He looked like he had the first time Tate had ever seen him.

Logan was dressed in a grey three-piece suit and vest, with a crisp, white shirt and perfectly tied, navy-blue tie. Tate watched him scan the coffee shop from behind his black hipster glasses, and when he spotted him, Logan started his way.

Tate tried to decide what was different about him as he walked through the people milling around the counters. As he got closer, he realized that Logan was rubbing his hands together in front of him.

He’s nervous.

Tate watched him come to a stop by the booth he was at and ask, “Did you already get something?”

“I’m not hungry,” he told him, shaking his head.

“Okay then.”

“You go ahead and grab lunch if you like. I’ll wait here.”

Logan looked to the counter and then turned back to him. “Give me one sec. I’m just going to order a coffee.”

Sure, it’s not like I’ve been waiting all morning for you to tell me what the hell is going on.

“Fine.”

Logan leaned down to kiss his cheek and said, “If you tell me fine one more time, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

As he pulled away, Tate gave a fake grin full of teeth and answered, “Fine.”

Logan took his chin between his thumb and forefinger and held him in place as he lowered his mouth so their lips were touching. “Smartass,” he whispered, and Tate’s eyes closed as Logan pressed a kiss to his mouth.

He lost himself right there in the booth as Logan’s tongue flicked over his lips, and it wasn’t until he heard a cough from the other side of the table that Tate realized someone had sat down.

Robbie.

“This is almost as hot as you two grinding on the dance floor last night.”

Logan lifted his head, and Tate looked across to see the mischievous barista smiling at him like a cat that got the cream.

“Okay, Robbie. Move out, would you?”

“Oh, come on, Logan. It was just getting good,” he whined. Then he lowered his voice as if imparting a secret. “And he obviously doesn’t mind an audience.”

“He can hear you,” Tate reminded the little shit. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

Robbie chewed on a piece of bright green gum and nodded. “Yep. I’m doing it. I came over to—”

“Take our order? So thoughtful,” Logan ended for him even though it was obvious by Robbie’s expression that that was not what he’d been about to say. “Want to get out of my seat?”

“How about you sit down beside me?” he invited as if Tate weren’t even there. Robbie’s habit of zeroing in on Logan and choosing to forget the rest of the world existed was surfacing yet again.

Tate watched Logan unbutton his jacket and noticed he held both his and Robbie’s attention as he peeled it off and then threw it across Robbie’s lap.

Logan then turned and looked at him. “Mind scooting over?”

Tate went to move over in the booth, and Logan sat beside him, placing a hand on his thigh under the table.

“Not too far.”

Tate swallowed slowly when he felt Logan’s hand squeeze his thigh. Then he turned back to Robbie, who was watching the both of them with an expression halfway between jealousy and arousal.

“Robbie?” Logan said.

Robbie’s eyes found Logan’s, and Tate knew what he was feeling. Poor kid. Logan was…potent.

“Can we have a double espresso and an extra nutty hazelnut latte?”

Tate turned his head in Logan’s direction, surprised that he remembered his drink. Then he saw a smirk hit his lips.

“My guy likes nuts.”

I’m going to kill him, Tate thought right before Robbie opened his mouth and made his murderous intentions shift to him.

“Then he’s got the perfect set to play with.”

Tate faced the punk who was laughing at him across the table. Then, calm as you please, Logan announced, “All right, Robbie. Time to leave.”

He got out of the booth and placed Logan’s jacket across the seat, but before he left, he looked them over once more. With the way Tate was glowering at him, he was surprised Robbie was still upright.

“It’s both, right? I can’t imagine someone as grumpy as you always receiving.”

“Robbie,” Logan growled.

Then Tate shocked the hell out of himself. “With Logan, I’d take it any way he wanted.”

“Holy shit, Tate,” Logan muttered, and Tate was more than satisfied with the longing look that came over Robbie’s face.

That’s right, Tate thought. No one will ever doubt who Logan is to me.

“Coffee would be great right about now,” Tate told him, feeling quite satisfied with himself. “Thanks.”

Robbie huffed and then walked away.

Tate believed that ninety percent of the guy was fun and games and the other ten percent had a massive crush on Logan.

He turned in the booth and realized that he couldn’t really blame Robbie. Logan was…Logan. If he’d had him once and then never again, he’d probably act the same way Robbie did.

Then Tate remembered why he was there, and suddenly, his confidence took a nosedive. He frowned when Logan turned to him, and when he placed an arm along the back of the booth, Tate told him, “Spit it out.”

Logan blinked at the command. Then his fingers touched the collar of his T-shirt.

“Logan, spit it out. I’ve been a fucking nutcase all morning.”

The slight quirk of Logan’s mouth irritated him.

“Do not joke about nuts again or I will kick you in your ‘perfect’ ones.”

When he added the air quotes, Logan started laughing. “You really do get kind of grumpy.”

“With you? Who wouldn’t? You woke me up then told me we needed to talk. Today. But not over the phone. In person.” Tate paused and then shoved his face in close to Logan’s. “You’re enough to make anyone grumpy.”

Logan’s blue gaze remained on his as he said softly, “That’s not very nice.”

“I’m not feeling very nice. I’m feeling fucking paranoid, and I hate that. What’s going on?”

Logan reached up and touched his fingers to his cheek before he pulled him in and kissed him hard on the mouth.

“It’s about the function on Friday.”

Tate’s mind starting racing. “Okay. Did you need me to stay home?”

“No,” Logan said quickly and then sighed. “There’s no easy way to say this.”

“Then just fucking say it,” Tate finally demanded, his patience gone, and Logan did as he’d asked—and said it.

“Chris will be there.”

29.

Logan sat in Tate’s living room and waited.

He couldn't have said why his palms were sweaty, but they were.

Tonight was a big deal in the course of their future and relationship—and fucking Chris Walker is going to be there. He needed to stop thinking of it like that.

Tonight, he was introducing Tate to his world. To his clients and business associates as his partner, the man in his life. That was how he had to think of it.

As the thought settled, he was brought out of his head by the bedroom door opening and Tate stepping into view. And holy shit what a view it is.

Dressed in a perfectly pressed shirt with a black bow tie hanging loosely around his neck, Tate rendered him absolutely speechless. He was playing with his cuff link under the tailored black jacket that was hugging his shoulders, and as Logan stood to go to him, he knew he’d never seen anyone more breathtaking in his life.

He walked over to where Tate had stopped. When he reached him, Tate let go of his wrist and looked up, and that sexy fucking smile of his curled his mouth—the same one that had caught Logan’s eye the first night they’d met.

“You like?” he asked with a glint in his eyes.

Oh, yes…I definitely like. But Logan said nothing as he raised a hand and gestured for Tate to turn. Tate’s brow rose, but then he slowly began to pivot.

The flawless cut of the jacket fit Tate’s lean body to perfection, and his pants were so closely fitted that they made Logan want to touch him—all over.

When he finally completed a full three-sixty, he asked again, “You like?”

“Very much,” Logan told him. His voice was low and full of reverence as he reached out and took either end of the bow tie. He crossed one side over the other and concentrated on the task at hand.

“So I won’t embarrass you tonight?” Tate asked.

Even though he masked it with a chuckle, Logan knew that, somewhere underneath the humor, Tate was genuinely concerned about that.

He tucked one end of the material under the bow he’d formed, and then took either side and tightened it. Once it was straightened, he said with the utmost sincerity, “I will never be prouder than I will be tonight with you.”

Tate looked into Logan’s eyes, which were free of his glasses, and saw that he was telling the truth. He really was proud to have him by his side, and that made Tate’s heart do some somersaults, because Logan was just…wow.

Logan always looked sophisticated. He oozed charm. But tonight, he’d taken it to a whole new level. He too was dressed in a tux, but his white shirt was punctuated with black buttons down the center and at the cuffs, which he could see peeking out from under his tailored jacket. He had at least a three-day stubble that was perfectly trimmed along his jawline and around his full lips, and as he ran a hand over Logan’s lapel, Tate realized he’d never felt prouder himself.

“You look unbelievable.”

Logan’s mouth quirked at the side and he asked, “In a good way, right?”

Tate did another once over muttering, “In an out-of-this-world kind of way. Jesus, Logan.”

Logan brought a hand up to his shoulder. Tate turned his head to see him brush a piece of lint from his jacket and then turned back to find eyes full of desire and admiration.

“There,” Logan told him. “Now you’re perfect.”

Tate smiled right before Logan cupped the back of his neck and brought their mouths together. He moaned at the contact and tried to keep himself from sliding his hands into Logan’s styled hair.

In the end, he grabbed either side of his suit jacket and opened his mouth. As soon as Logan’s tongue touched his, Tate’s temperature spiked. It was as if touching Logan heated him from the inside out, not to mention started his blood humming through his veins until it pooled in his cock and made it hard as a steel fucking rod.

Holy shit. The power vibrating from Logan’s body excited every part of him.

Gathering some kind of control, Tate pulled his mouth free and shook his head. “We have somewhere to go, and you have to be someone important, Mr. Mitchell.”

Logan took a step back and agreed, “Yes, we do.” He held his hand out, and Tate took it as they walked to his front door.

“Logan?”

Logan turned his head toward him. “Hmm?”

“I’m also very proud to be with you tonight.”

Logan pulled his Audi up to the valet of the Waldorf Astoria, and as he stepped out of the car and saw Tate climb out the passenger’s side, he wondered in the back of his mind how tonight was going to play out.

After he’d told Tate about Chris, he’d expected him to be pissed off about it, but all he’d said was, “That’s what you were worried about? If you ever make me wait and worry like that again, I’m going to fucking hurt you.” Then Tate had sat there, drank his coffee, and asked if he was okay with the thought of seeing Chris.

Logan thought about his own answer of, “I’m not sure,” and he still felt that way. He wasn’t sure if he was okay with it, but it wasn’t like he had a choice. He just hoped that Cole didn’t recognize his old ‘study partner.’

Buttoning his suit jacket, he watched Tate do the same and then made his way around the front of the car. Ahh, who knew Tate could pull off a tux so well? He looked like he was born to wear one.

When Logan stopped beside him, Tate asked, “Ready?”

The moment felt full circle for him.

It had only been weeks ago that he’d been asking the same thing of Tate as he’d faced his fears, and now here Tate was, helping him face his own.

Logan winked, and when Tate held his hand out to him, all of his worries disappeared.

He slipped his palm into Tate’s and moved in closer to whisper, “In case I get busy in there and don’t say it, thank you.”

“For?” Tate asked as his eyes softened.

Logan squeezed his fingers, and as they started walking inside, he answered, “Always being willing to try.”

Tate scanned the opulent room and tried not to feel overwhelmed.

As soon as they’d stepped inside the banquet hall, Logan had been pulled away by his paralegal Sherry, and he’d told him that he’d be back as soon as possible. He’d known he would more than likely spend the night in the corner on his own, so it wasn’t like it was a surprise, but at the same time, it left him standing in a room full of—

“Tate!”

Strangers?

He turned in the direction of his name and was more than relieved to see Rachel Madison waving her arm and making her way through several people in his direction.

She was stunning, draped in a bright-red dress that plunged low at the neckline and then fell away to her knees. With the slight baby bump, she was radiant.

“Hello,” she beamed, and as Tate smiled at her, she opened her arms and embraced him in a warm hug.

“Hey.”

“I thought you might like to see a friendly face. I remember my first function with Cole down at the Shedd Aquarium, and it was—”

“Intimidating?” Tate suggested.

“Yes. And overwhelming,” she sighed and stepped back. “I spent the whole night talking to a complete stranger. Well, not the whole night.”

The grin that came across Rachel’s face was deviant, and it almost reminded him of the way Logan looked when he was thinking of something particularly…sinful.

“Lovely lady though,” she finally finished.

Tate winked down at her and nodded. “I’m sure.”

“You look hot by the way. Seriously…smokin’ hot. I think I’m probably the luckiest female on the planet tonight. I’ve got Cole, and I saw Logan walk in with you. Don’t tell him this, but I’ve never seen him look more handsome than he does tonight, and then you? Yep,” she said, popping the ‘p’ and making Tate laugh. “Pretty sure everyone in here is gonna think I’m one lucky lady.”

“Well, we’re all very lucky to be seen with such a beautiful woman as yourself.”

Rachel practically glowed as she giggled. “Ahh, flattery. It will get you everywhere.”

“Yeah, it’s how I put up with Logan. Tell him he’s hot and he rolls right over.”

“Does he now?” Rachel taunted as she leaned in and bumped Tate’s shoulder.

Laughing, Tate shrugged. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Oh, but it’s so fun down there.”

“How about you point out our table and then I’ll get us a drink from the bar.”

Rachel turned around and pointed over to where Cole was standing at the other end of the room, and then he saw Logan walk up and stand next to his brother.

One was light, the other dark, but both men were equally commanding.

It was easy to see how their practice was so successful. They were intelligent and charming, and as Tate stood there sizing them up, he also realized they were both ridiculously attractive men.

They shared a father, Tate knew that, but the man must have had some seriously strong genes, because these two men were something else.

“They’re impressive, aren’t they?”

Tate looked down at Rachel to see that she too was staring over at her husband and brother-in-law.

“Logan’s never looked more attractive. It’s all in his smile. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him really happy.”

Tate touched a hand to Rachel’s lower back and felt his heart warm at her words. “He makes me happy too.” She looked as if she may tear up, so Tate gestured behind him. “I’m gonna go get those drinks. What can I get you?”

“Hmm…A virgin strawberry daiquiri please.”

Tate gave her arm a squeeze and then turned around to make his way toward the bar. He needed something to kick these nerves down a notch, and one quick shot of something would do the trick.

Logan stood beside Cole, drink in hand, as a long-standing client of theirs walked away to their table.

“You arrived on time tonight,” Cole joked as he turned his way. “Should I thank Tate for that?”

“Definitely not. He’s late for everything.”

“Well in that case, I’m happy to see you both here and on time.”

Logan raised his glass of champagne and took a sip. “Yeah, about tonight. I need to tell you something.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Does this have something to do with Tate’s ex? Because I sent off everything we needed to. If you did anything—”

“Would you stop? It’s nothing to do with that lunatic.”

Cole sighed and rolled his shoulders as if he were relieving himself of that burden. “Okay…then what is it?”

“The new client you met with last week—LPCW Architecture. Did you meet both partners?”

Cole frowned at him. Logan knew his brother was getting annoyed—more so over the fact that he was questioning him than anything else.

“No. I only met Lance Powell. His partner, Christopher, was out of town.”

Logan said nothing, just stared at Cole for a moment, and that was all it took.

Cole was nobody’s fool, and when he felt as though he’d been played, you better get the fuck out of his way.

“Are you trying to tell me that the Christopher Walker who owns half of the biggest architecture firm in Chicago is algebra Chris?”

Logan brought his glass to his lips and nodded as he drained it and then placed it on the tray of a waiter walking by.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Fuck, Logan.”

Logan grabbed ahold of Cole’s arm and steered him over to the side, since he looked like his head was going to explode.

“You think you might have said something, oh, I don’t know…this week?”

Logan sighed and reached up to fiddle with his tie. “I’ve kind of been trying to deal with making Tate feel comfortable, and then I found this out, and just…Well, fuck. I don’t know what to tell you.”

Cole looked like he was grinding his teeth, and Logan wasn’t surprised. He was also more than aware that, if Cole found out the entire truth about Chris, he would likely go postal.

“How long have you known?”

“Since Monday.”

“Of course. This is great. Just fucking great.” Cole’s eyes scanned the room, and Logan knew he was searching for him.

“He’s not here yet.”

“How do you know? We probably won’t even recognize him. It’s been years since college.”

Yeah, Logan thought, but not since I last saw him.

Tate stood at the far end of the bar and waited as the other guests were served. He’d been keeping an eye on Logan throughout and just saw him walk off to the side with Cole, where they were now standing in the midst of what seemed like a very heated debate.

Oh shit. Probably smart to wait until that simmers down.

“Good evening.”

Tate turned to his right and saw a blond-haired man stop beside him.

“Hi,” he offered, figuring it’d be rude of him not to try and at least make small talk with Logan’s associates.

“This is some function they’ve thrown tonight.”

Tate looked around at the tables all set for fine dining, the low lights, and the band playing. Then he turned back to the open bar.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s fairly impressive.”

He felt the man beside him shift a little closer, and Tate turned to see if someone had maybe moved on the other side of the guy. When it was clear there was no one there, Tate then focused on the man again. He was smiling at him in a way he’d only ever had one man smile at him before, and that was Logan.

Clearing his throat, Tate moved as discreetly as he could, adding a small space between them. “So have you been to one of their events before?”

“No,” the man told him, shaking his head. “But you always remember your first.”

Okay, Tate thought, turning to the bartender, who finally stopped in front of him. “Can I get a shot of tequila, a gin and tonic, and a virgin strawberry daiquiri?”

As the guy went off to fill his order, blond guy once again shifted closer and, this time, touched his arm. Tate looked down at the fingers on his sleeve and saw a wedding band on the man’s left finger. Then he brought his eyes up to blue ones focused on him.

But unlike Logan’s heated stares, this man did nothing for him—except perhaps make his skin crawl.

“You’re very attractive.”

Right, okay...Guy obviously saw me with Logan and is what, hitting on me?

“Thank you,” Tate said, trying to be gracious as he pulled his arm away.

“You must hear that all the time though. What’s your name?”

Wow.

Logan had come on strong when they’d first met, no doubt about it, but it was interesting to Tate that he’d had such a different reaction to him than he was having to this man. To this married man.

“My name’s Tate.” And I don’t care who you are.

Again, the man’s hand found his arm, and this time, he added a healthy dose of pressure.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Tate. Has anyone ever told you that you have incredibly sexy hair?”

It was obvious the guy wasn’t taking a hint, so Tate leaned over and said softly as to not embarrass him if his wife were around, “I’m sorry, but I’m taken.”

He was about to back away when the hand on his arm moved up to his bicep, keeping him put. Then the guy told him, “I don’t care.”

“Well I do.”

Logan’s voice was low, but it was clear as fucking day as it cut through the air and had Tate looking over his shoulder.

Logan was livid. Tate had never seen the look that was on his face as he glared at the man who was still holding his arm. His blue eyes narrowed and focused in on the hand touching him. Then he took a step closer and said in a voice that was dripping with rage, “Take. Your. Hand. Off. Him.”

It took Tate about one second to work out exactly who was touching him.

Chris.

He finally removed his hand, and Tate stepped away to stand beside Logan, who promptly took his.

Tate made sure to interlace their fingers as he held on tight.

His silent acceptance.

His silent support.

Logan looked at him, and the rage from seconds ago had been replaced with love and pride. Everything they’d been through over the last few weeks was worth that look.

Tate nodded, and as Logan turned back to face his fear, he knew it was going to be okay.

“Mr. Walker, you’re new to Mitchell & Madison and a guest here tonight, so maybe you didn’t know, but please allow me to introduce myself. I’m Logan Mitchell, and this is Tate Morrison, and he is my partner.”